iClue
by Opposite of Fire
Summary: While Sam solves the mystery of the Ridgeway fire, Freddie, in his coma, dreams up a clue parody where he must solve the mystery of Spencer Boddy's death. Side story to iBecome a Private Eye.
1. Chapter 1

iClue

Disclaimer: If I must... iCarly is not owned by me. Nor is clue. There, happy?

Author's Notes: Hiya! Did ya miss me? This story (If you were too lazy to read the summary) is a side story to _iBecome a Private Eye_. You don't have to read the first story to keep along with this one, however I do advise it, as it means more traffic for my story. And the first chapter is actually the third chapter of _iBecome a Private Eye_, meaning you may skip it. It just tells you how Freddie fell into his coma. Okay, enough author's note, let the story begin!

* * *

Chapter 1: iFall Into a Coma

The temporary school site turned out to be the spare apartment spaces in Bushwell. I think Franklin picked this location on purpose, though he can't really show favoritism to us. Any who, after school I told my mom I was walking Sam home. Well, I was, but I was also going to 'drop' by the school with this letter from Franklin, saying I can go in.

As we walk out of Bushwell, the first thing out of Sam's mouth is: "Are we going to get a pizza?"

I looked at her incredulously, "Wha-?! No! I'm taking **YOU** home, then I'm going to the school to finish my investigation. Or at least, find something to help,".

"Look, Freddork, I really do appreciate what your doing but...your just prolonging the inevitable. When the weeks up, Briggs and Howard are gonna lock me up, throw away the key, and leave me to rot... whether I deserve it or not." She looked down while she was talking. Sam hated feeling weak, and I knew this all too well. I made us stop walking.

"Sam... I need to know right now, did you do it or not?".

"I didn't... I really didn't," I smiled. I knew Sam was innocent, but I needed to get her to confess to it.

"In that case," I replied, carefully choosing my words. One wrong move and Sam, even in this state, could pound me into creamed corn. "I can, and will, prove you innocent. There is no such thing as the perfect crime, and there will be some loophole, you'll see. It's just a matter of exploiting it," We continued walking, as Sam continued the conversation.

"Just like I exploit you and Carly?"

"Um...no?" Why would she us that analogy I don't think she exploits us. Last year I probably won't have said that but now...no, she's never taken advantage of us. Except financially, and she's right, I don't need that money.

"Uh huh, right. Listen Benson, don't lie to mama; do you really think you can do this?" By now we were at her house. I gave her a loop-sided smile.

"Does ham make Sammie happy?" I know I'm pushing it, but I'm gonna take my chances.

"Watch it! Mama likes her ham!" She's letting me go easy today. Shuffling her feet nervously she said, "I believe you, okay?"

"So, you're coming?" No, she's not, but I need to appear optimistic.

"Are you nuts, Benny-boy? I believe **YOU** can do it, not me. Good luck though!" And exit Sam.

I stare at the door where she disappeared a moment longer than usual before heading for my burnt destination: Ridgeway.

* * *

"Alright, you're clear for entrance," FINALLY! The guy at the door isn't doing his job so well. I've been here for almost half an hour just so he could give me clearance on his laptop. Something that would have taken me several minutes. Who hired this guy again?

"Thank you," I manage to say half-politely. Then I inquire, "Do you have any knowledge on the security tapes?".

"Sorry, kiddo. Yesterday two very old-looking people came and took all of them. But have fun searching the school!" He flashed a grin, and I roll my eyes while walking into the building. Two old-looking people? That can only be Briggs and Howard. No one else who hates Sam would have clearance. But why take the tapes? They'll get them when I'm done anyway, and it won't really help them to hide evidence like that, why take it? I suspect foul play.

Being alone like this creeps me out. Quickly, I pull out my cell-phone and call Sam. I know for a fact that Carly's busy with Spencer and Socko tonight. Something about a family get-together? I dunno.

"Yellow?"

"Yellow? Really, Sam?" I didn't think she would use that greeting.

"Oh, hey dork," she didn't sound so upset to hear from me. "So, how's it going, Sherlock? Bag any dangerous fire-starters, yet?"

"Nope, but I'm bored all by myself. Too bad you didn't come." Maybe I could guilt her into coming?

"Hmm, in a burnt up school with you, no meat, and a psycho pyro? Pass." Yeah, didn't think so.

"Well, mayhaps you change your mind, Puckett, you know where I'll be,".

"Mayhaps? Really, Inspector Geek?" Hey!

"Don't judge me by my vocabulary!"

"Don't judge me by my vocabulary!" She's mocking me!

"Why did I call you agai- What's that?" Just as I'm about to finish my sentence, I spot something in one of the rooms where the fire started. Sam keeps asking what's going on but I ignore her for now. Then, I find what I was looking for, on the floor, under a desk.

"It's a... laptop?"

"Why would a criminal leave their laptop behind?"

"Like I said, no crime is perfect. I'm logging in now." I wait for the computer to load up in silent suspense. Well, minus Sam asking over and over again if it's done. I have half a mind to hang up on her when it's done.

I'm really glad I'm, in Sam's terms, a tech geek. It's so easy to find out what the criminal is hiding. Unfortunately, All the incriminating stuff has been erased.

"Geek?" Sam inquires gently. "What's up?".

"There's...nothing. No evidence...nothing," I can't believe it. Possibly our biggest piece of evidence and there's NOTHING ON IT!

"Hmm...check the internet history. Maybe you can find something linking them to the fire, and give the laptop to the police," That's...not so bad, actually. I pull up the internet history, but only find one website in the past 42-hours. The other days of the week? There all sites about fashion magazines and online clothing stores and, surprisingly enough, iCarly is favorited.

"Anything else?" Sam asked when I told her the contents. I nodded my head, and after a while... "I can't see you, nub! Answer me verbally, with your words!" Oh.

"Just one more. I'll click on it," and I'm onto a semi-familiar website. One that requires a log-in password. There is already a user name...

I take a few random guesses until I get it. The password is coincided with another fact about Sam. I guess the culprit is either obsessed with her (which would be creepy) or knows her personally...

Shaking that thought out of my head for now (but storing it for later), I look through the documents and I found a new one. After a moments debate, I read it.

"Freddie? You-who, still here!"

"Sorry, Sam, I'm reading through a- whoa!" This is- This is-.

"What!? What did you find?! Come on, tell me!" I thought she wasn't interested... oh well, I'll tell her anyway.

"The plans, for both the fire and something else, and there addressed to- no!" It can't be!

"WHO?! WHO ALREADY NUBFACE!" Sam's getting impatient. But as it sinks in, it starts to make sense...

The witnesses of Sam...

The cause of the fire, gasoline (something Sam wouldn't, and can't, have)...

The websites on the computer...

"Sam, it's- Ugh!" A heavy pain pulses through my head, and I fall backwards, onto the wooden floor. I can make out the (although shady) familiar figure...

"FREDDIE!!"

The attacker raises a crowbar in preparation for another strike...

The last thing I remember thinking is _Now who's gonna prove Sam innocent?_

Pain. Fade to Black.

* * *

As I already said, this chapter is a repost of Chapter 3 of my last story, and thus can be skipped.

Still, it would be nice if you reviewed... please?


	2. Chapter 2

iClue

Disclaimer: Said authoress is not the owner of iCarly or Clue.

Author's Notes: I can't believe it took me so long to just sit here and write this! Ugh, I'm getting LAZY! I had the previous chapter ready, but that was mostly just copying and pasting. I've learned a long time ago not to just delete things once your done with them.

* * *

Chapter 2: iPlum?

...Ugh...

...That...hurt...

...Where am I?

I allow my eyes to flutter open, half-sure I am either on the floor of the school, or in a hospital. To my great surprise, I'm neither. Right now, I'm sitting in what can only be described as a taxi. The oldest taxi I have ever seen in my life, I feel compelled to add. The seats were some sort of velvety leather, and The man driving the cab is wearing a hat I'd seen in a movie once. Worn by a taxi driver. In the mid-20th century. Okay, where am I?

After a moment, the taxi stops. The driver turns around and, much to my surprise, he looks like Lewbert! Wart and all! He stares at me with the same scowl he gives everyone and announces, "We're here, now get outta my cab!" Same old Lewbert.

I, however, have no idea where we are. "We're... where, exactly?"

Lewbert does that scream/sigh/growl in annoyance thing, like he does when there are people in his lobby, and points outside, "Tudor Mansion. You're destination, remember... _**sir**_?" I don't miss how he stresses the word sir, forcing it out. Well, as a cab driver, you do have to be a little more polite than yelling at everyone who comes within twenty yards of you. He must have a little more patience than the Lewbert I know and hate.

I take a look outside. Tudor Mansion, as it's called, is sitting atop a hill, with a beautifully kept front lawn. All that means to me is that if this is my destination, it means I have to climb up a hill. A _tall_ looking hill. Oh, joy.

"Well, now that you know where we are... _**GET OUTTA MY CAB!!!**_" He started out kinda nice, but screams that last part at me. I begin to open the door, but look back at him (And force myself not to flinch at his angry expression), and inquire:

"Wait, don't I have to pay you?" He snarls back at me rudely.

"You paid me in advance, remember Professor?" Since when was I a professor? But, seeing as I have no say in this crazy world, I nod politely, and bolt out of his cab. Yup, just as crazy as Lewbert.

* * *

Somehow managing to trudge my way up that hill (Which is a lot bigger than it looks, by the way), I end up at the front door of Tudor Manor. The mansion is only two stories, but the largeness of the size of the mansion floor plan, and the surrounding property more than make up for it. Not knowing what else to do, I knock on the door and wait.

Moments later, the door opens, and standing before me is...wait, mom?

"Ah," She says, completely not recognizing me (For who I am, anyways), "Welcome to the manor, Professor Plum," Plum? Was that me? For the first time, I notice my mother is wearing a maid's outfit. "My name is Mrs. White, but you may call me Marissa," I nod absentmindedly. At least that part hasn't changed. Something's still off, though.

To help me try to figure it out, I ask her, "Um, have we met before?" I really hope we hadn't. If that's not the case, I can try faking amnesia. She stares at me, and then laughs. Not joyfully, though. It's somewhat depressing and hollow, like she didn't really mean it. Not a good sign.

"No, we've never met personally. But, I have a past as an actress. Little Miss Marissy? You've heard of it, I'm sure," Nope, never have. But I can't risk offending 'Miss Marissy', so I nod politely and confirm what she's said. And she takes me inside.

* * *

I'm apparently a welcomed guest, because Mrs. White, or Marissa, or mom, or whoever she is right now, gives me a grand tour of the place. It's just as big, if not bigger, than it looks! A spa, a lounge, a theater (Which I consider pretty primitive, but it's an apparent advancement here), and other such places. Never in my life have I seen so much... stuff. A thought suddenly occurs to me.

"Mo-Marissa?" I ask, hoping silently that she wouldn't notice the mistake I made with her name. Luck seems to be on my side (For once), and she looks back, ignoring my mix-up, "Um, just where is our host? I mean, surely someone else will be here," And she stares at me for a moment.

"Oh, yes, our host is out at the moment and will join us shortly-" A sudden knocking sound interrupts her, "And that must be one of the other guests," Other guests? Is this some kind of house party? I follow, partially out of curiosity, and partially because I've got nothing better to do, and don't really feel comfortable here. Silently, I follow her to the door, and watch nonchalantly as she answers it.

Seeing the person on the other side makes me freeze.

A stunningly familiar girl enters the room. Dressed in a long, red dress, it was quite obvious she hadn't wanted to come here. No make-up (Unusual for a girl of this time era), no special accessories, just a red dress, and flowing blond hair that reached her mid-back, though it looks like she gave up half-way through trying to french braid it.

I know that girl. Sam... or at least, she looks like Sam.

"Welcome, I'm assuming your Samantha Scarlet?" Mom/White asks Sam politely. Sam/Scarlet snorts, looking anywhere but at Mom/White.

"Call me Scar, and I've come here because I had no choice. Where's Boddy, lets get this little party of his over with," I'll assume Boddy is our host. Mom/White scoffs, shaking her head.

"He's not here at the moment. The other guests will be here shortly, and I must wait for them. Professor, could you give her the tour?" I gulp nervously, because she looks just as scary as the real Sam. But, not wanting to arouse suspicion, I nod. We walk out of the front hall, and the first thing she says to me is:

"I don't like you," Could've seen that coming a thousand times over.

"You don't have to, you just have to put with me," And we continue our tour in silence.

* * *

After a while, Mom/White shows us to our rooms. I still haven't seen the other guests, but I'm pretty sure they're people I know. After getting settled, Mom/White calls everyone down for dinner.

At dinner, my suspicion is proven correct. The only other female I see is Carly, wearing a deep blue dress, make-up, a bunch of jewelry, and a feather boa. Her hair is pretty much the same, though. Her name is Carlotta Peacock. An old man wearing a dark yellow military suit is the first other male I meet. Howard's twin, but his name is Howard Mustard. I met him when I ran into him on the way to the bathroom, and knocked us both down. Ow. He screamed bloody murder at me, then went to his room. The other male here is Gibby, or Reverend Gibson Green. With a green business suit, he is so much more serious here. He doesn't even take his shirt off! And I've met the other house guests.

It's at dinner where we first meet the mysterious Mr. Boddy.

Sam/Scar, like her counter-part, loves ham, and snarls at Gibby/Green for trying to take a piece while she's still having her fill. Trying not to arouse suspicion, I ask the other house guests about Mr. Boddy. The only one who knows anything about Mr. Boddy is Carly/Peacock.

"He's my only relative at the moment. He sent me a letter, claiming he's throwing a party with some old some people he's known," Only relative, huh? I have a pretty good idea on who he is...

Just as I finish this thought, the door opens, and standing there, in a black suit that looks way too casual for this occasion, is Carly's older brother, Spencer Shay. Or Spencer Boddy, now.

"Ah, Mr. Boddy, welcome home! I didn't hear you come in..." Mom/White is stunned by his sudden appearance. Frankly, we all are. Well, they are all, at least. Seeing Spencer in this position leaves me not surprised at all.

"Of course you didn't!" Spencer/Boddy replies all too joyfully, "I know this place better than my left hand! Not my right hand, though," He then looks thoughtfully at his right hand, and I hold in laughter. Dream or not, Spencer will always be semi-psychotic.

"Now then, I'll let you all in on a little secret: The party doesn't start until tomorrow!" He beams joyfully at us, "You all, however, are special guests, and I would like you to be here tonight. You've already seen your rooms. I, myself, will be wandering the manor randomly. So, don't be surprised if I walk into a room unannounced (I'm not used to having guests here), or knock on your bedroom door," And he smiles at Mom/White, "Mrs. White, did you finish with all the arrangements for tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir," Mom/White replies dutifully. Spencer/Boddy grins at her, looking only too much like the Cheshire cat, "Everything's in place..."

And for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling something is gonna go horribly wrong.

* * *

And it will, or this wouldn't be an interesting story, now would it? For those who are confused as to why I refer to a person as real name/clue name, it's not to remind you who they are (It's not that hard to remember), but because Freddie's getting used to his friends being new people who don't know him. And now you know who Scar is!

Oh, um right, review please? Cookies for everyone who reviews! (Sets out platter of cookies)


	3. Chapter 3

iClue

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN iCARLY OR CLUE, SIS! Sheesh! Now, what was I gonna do here again?

Author's Notes: Well, it's me again! Hey, don't give me that look! Nothing more than Freddie drabbling about his predicament here, but it'll include more Spencer! So, yeah, just read it.

* * *

Chapter 3: iWonder what's going on

It's been almost an hour since dinner. And truthfully? I've got nothing to do.

Mom/White's cleaning up the dining room and kitchen. Apparently we made a big mess. Sam/Scar and Carly/Peacock had gone to the theater. I think they've become fast friends, wouldn't surprise me in the least. Howard/Mustard went back to his quarters, and Gibby/Green is around here somewhere. I think he went to the patio, but I can't be sure. I've tried watching the girls movie, but it was some lame horror flick and I found myself bored before half-way through it. Then I tried talking to Mom/White, but she's too busy to pay attention.

And that's how I found myself here, in the observatory. Actually, it's more like a study with a telescope in the window. **SO** advanced. But, since this seems to be the 1930's (Not to mention Spencer's in charge, even if he is Spencer Boddy now), I can't really say I was expecting more. Actually, this is a nice place to observe the night sky.

"Yes, it is quite beautiful here, isn't it?" I whirl back around, seeing Spencer/Boddy at the doorway. Funny, only now do I recall that he told us to watch out for him, that he'd wander randomly around the manor. He grins at me, a normal, very Spencer-ish grin, with all the humor and jokingness of the old Spencer Shay. How I miss that.

But that brings up questions. Namely, will I ever see the real versions of my friends again? What will happen to Sam without me? And just why am I in this stupid dream world? Or is it even that? Ya know, it's hard not to be philological when in a star-gazing room.

Spencer/Boddy walks up to me, and I absentmindedly make room for him to sit down. He does so, looking over what I'd just scribbled down (I was writing random things that came to mind). His eyebrows furrow in confusion at what he was looking at. His head turned towards me.

"More musings, oh famed Professor Plum?" He has a joking edge to his voice. I look over to him and reply,

"I'm sure 'famed' is an exaggeration, Mr. Boddy," He chuckles halfheartedly. I lean over, raising my eyebrow in a questioning manner. Spencer/Boddy stops chuckling and looks over my notes. He looks back at me.

"Seriously, though, what is this? 'Musings of the Human Psyche'? Just what is this?" For the first time, I look over the notes I didn't put any thought into writing. Surly enough, the title was _Musings of the Human Psyche_, and the notes were about the power of the human mind in an unconscious state, such as a coma. My mind blanked. Then, it came to me:

"_Freddork... Time to get up,"_

"_What he's in is the level of consciousness referred to as a coma..."_

"_Sam... It's not your fault..."_

"_Don't die yet Freddork. I want to be able to tell **YOU** I won, not your grave,"_

That's what's going on... I'm in some sort of coma. Everything here is dreamed up. Shouldn't there be a white light? GAH! Who made dying so confusing, anyways? Wait, hold up, I'm NOT gonna die here, in this creepy manor!

All the while, Spencer/Boddy's been staring at me in concern, "Are you alright, Professor?" That snaps me out of my inner turmoil.

"Yeah... just need to lie down, I've got a headache," I press three fingers to my temple and rub it, as if trying to calm a headache. Spencer/Boddy grins at me.

"Well, that's why I choose to be creative instead of smart! See you tomorrow morning, Professor!" And with that, Spencer/Boddy walks out, presumably to torture the other guests. I smile to my self, imagining Howard/Mustard being bugged by Spencer/Boddy.

Deciding thinking wasn't helping anything, I leave immediately for my room. It's getting late, anyways.

* * *

Back in my room, I look in a mirror for the first time in what feels like forever. Should I have expected not to recognize myself? Well, I do, but it's just- **this outfit!**

I'm wearing a plum-colored suit. It's just simply the solid color plum, no other explanation for it. Underneath the plum jacket is a white shirt, and worn over that is a gray vest with a pocket watch. The shoes are classic for men of this era, simple and easy to move around in, but with an elegant touch to them. I can't help but wonder if I'm rich in this messed up world, or if Spencer was just joking. Sighing, I open my suitcase to find a night robe or something to wear.

And then I stumble upon it.

A paper pamphlet, for a university on the Eastern Coast, falls out onto the wooden floor. Picking it up, there are several men and women (Obviously my mind messed up the whole 30's thing) sitting in front of a collage. A black and white photo, in front of the university sign. And I'm one of the people in front.

I browse through the pamphlet, finding my own class, a course in psychology. So I'm a collage professor. But it also states that I'd found some important alternate function of the human brain while getting my own degree. Apparently, I'm known world wide for that.

Okay, but how is this gonna help me figure all this chiz out?

I can hear the girls walking up the stairs, giggling about some actor in the movie. Eh, typical, even in this insane universe they have to obsess over movie stars.

Despite knowing I'm in a coma, I feel suddenly tired, and fall back onto the bed, not bothering to change into the night robe I found. I think fleetingly of the real Sam: How was she doing? Will she miss me? Why do I even CARE about all this chiz?

Ya know what? I'm just gonna make this simple and fall asleep.

* * *

That is probably going to be the HARDEST chapter to write in the entire story. Action starts next chapter. Oh, and by the way, good luck guessing who the killer is this time!

Wait! You forgot to revi- oh, forget it!


	4. Chapter 4

iClue

Disclaimer: I'm not the monkey person that owns iCarly or Clue. That's another monkey person. I'm just writing here.

Author's Notes: OKKAAYY... Well, time for another chapter of iClue. This is where our story REALLY begins! The other chapters just explained what was going on but now- **NOW** we finally get to the mystery. I'm going to risk everything and say it. SKLEE!

* * *

Chapter 4: iFind Spencer's Dead Boddy

Ya know how morning always seems to come to early? Well, that's the case in these dreams, too. I awaken earlier than when I wanted to because of the stupid sun poking through my windows. The light falls across my face, slowly forcing me from my slumber, and it would have been peaceful had I not been so tired. Sure, I can force myself to go to school and stuff, but every kid does that. Now, waking up is just annoying.

"Gr... stupid sunlight," I mumble into my pillow, before launching it into the window, as if that could solve the problem. Seeing as it didn't, I force myself to regain consciousness before picking up my pillow, which had fallen uselessly to the floor, and grabbing some clothing, praying that the bathroom is still free.

Hallelujah! It's still open!

Claiming it as my own by locking the door, I proceed to go about my daily routine (You don't need to know about THAT!), and exit the bathroom, hair still wet from showering. And guess who I run into. Three guesses.

If you guessed Sam/Scar, you'd be right.

"Watch where you're going, Professor Nub!" Sam/Scar snaps at me. What, you thought we just passed each other? No, I ran into her quite literally. And she's still the same, even if she doesn't know about the world outside my mental world. I think my mind recreated her to be as much as the original as possible. Heh, just what I need. A Sam Puckett on my heels.

"Sorry, Sa-Scar," I stutter, struggling to get her name right. Her annoyed/angry look fades into one of confusion.

"Did you just... almost get my name wrong?" And now she laughs, "Seriously?! It's not that hard a name to remember, 'Professor'!!" She bursts into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Right about now, it's taking all of my self-control not to strangle her just to see what would happen. Then again... if I did that, I'd be dead for real. Yeah, better just bite down that anger. Sam, dream or not, is the scariest demon to haunt my nightmares.

She stops laughing, and looks at me. No anger, no confusion, no amusement, just... I can't even tell what it is! "Well, come on! It's breakfast time, and momma's hungry!" I couldn't help but chuckle at that last part, and we head to the dining room, chatting idly all the way.

Once in the dining room, Mom/White serves us a delicious smelling breakfast. I'm not entirely sure what it is, but I like it! Then again, this is my mind... of course I would like the food!

"So," I begin, as a conversation starter. This silence is kinda creepy, "Has anyone seen our beloved host? I haven't since last night,"

Carly/Peacock continues where I left off, finishing off her drink first, "Yeah, I haven't seen him since he came into my room last night to say 'sweet dreams'. Should we be worried?" Since none of us really know the answer to that (Hey, I just met the guy last night! Spencer or not, there are **SOME** differences!), we turn to our server. She smiles gently at us all.

"Don't worry," She reassures us, "Mr. Boddy often disappears during the mornings for what can seem like hours at a time. He always turns up eventually," Sam/Scar is about to say something, but instead, another plate of ham is shoved in front of her by our oh so jolly server. Sam/Scar gets into it immediately, just loving the taste of ham. I can tell you that from the way she slowly chews the ham, simply savoring the taste. I take this as a cue to eat my own (Untouched) bacon, before Sam/Scar moves on from her ham craving.

"Hey, how did you guys get here?" Asks Carly, "I was going to call a cab, but I decided to walk instead, and when that got boring, I hitchhiked here," She giggles, as though hitchhiking was a comical joke on iCarly. That's the one thing I could never imagine Carly without: a sense of humor. It just doesn't fit her not to have one, just like it doesn't fit Spencer not to be crazy, and it doesn't fit Sam to not be completely obsessed with various meats: From bacon, to the ham she was devouring now. We're discussing how we got here (My experience with Lewbert being voted strangest), and Sam/Scar is trying to force the meat of the ham down her throat.

"Slow down, Miss Scarlet, or your going to choke your little self!" Howard/Mustard snaps at her. He didn't mean to sound caring (Which he didn't), and probably didn't intend that joke. He had meant to sound condescending, as if he were better than her. A dead **SQUIRREL** is better than Howard! Though I didn't say this aloud, just nonchalantly consume my delicious breakfast. Made by a maid that looks like my mom.

Okay, this is still beyond weird.

Breakfast went along normally enough: Sam/Scar and Carly/Peacock spent the time comparing ex-boyfriends, to see who was the worst guy chooser. That, I tune out. Howard/Mustard and Gibby/Green are debating the need of male shirts in society (HA! I knew Gibby would always hate shirts!), and Mom/White grumbles something about 'inconsiderate brats', while cleaning up our breakfast. I had mostly only played with my food during the meal: not actually paying attention. It's only when my plate is taken away do I realize that nothing good is coming of me just sitting here, so I get up and follow the lead the others have already taken; leaving the dining room.

* * *

It's so easy to forget how big this place is! Like last night, I head to the observatory. No one is in there, so I pick up a piece of paper and once again begin scribbling random notes down. I'm not even sure half the stuff I'm writing is real, but it's a good way to get my emotions out of the way.

And the door opens.

Startled, I turn around, a random umbrella from the room in my hand as though it's a fencing sword. Ah, fencing. The only thing that's not technical stuff that I actually enjoy/am good at. Sure, there's music and stuff, but I prefer the feel of a fencing sword in your hands, the pride after mastering a new move. It just makes me free I guess. Anyhow...

Carly/Peacock is shocked by the fact that my umbrella sword is right next to her face. Then, she bursts into giggles, "What, lost your sword, o knight of sciencey stuff?"

"Don't sneak up on me like that," Was my non-humorous response to her humorous statement. She glances at me softly, though I can't tell if it's from sympathy, or just cause I'm pathetic. Either way, we start talking.

And I realize how strange it is without my friends to talk to. I miss the randomness of even our non-webshow conversations, the craziness of Spencer's cut-ins (Which always seem to be at the best available time), the wackiness of dealing with our messed-up neighbors... it just didn't feel right without the constant insanity that is the life of the iCarly trio...

"...Professor? **PROFESSOR**!" Oh, when did I tune Carly/Peacock out? It didn't seem like we were talking that long, "Did you hear me?"

"Uh, no," I reply honestly, chuckling lamely so she'd know it was a mistake, "Could you repeat that, please?" She sighs in annoyance.

"I **ASKED **if you could get my coat from the front hall. Please?" She smiles sweetly, and even Sam couldn't say no to that face. Because after that pitiful little child act, she's swelling up with real tears, ready to cry and make me seem like the bad guy. This happened sometimes when we were little, but the worst that ever happened was a stern talking to. No biggie.

"Be right back," I promise to her, and head out to the front hall. It's not a long commute, just that no one else is here. Not sure where, but they're not here.

And I open the door. My jaw falls in shock, and I might have screamed, but I can't be sure. In the center of the room lay Spencer/Boddy. He had plenty of swollenness all around his head, his chest had been stabbed multiple times, and he looks positively pale. I can hear the others behind me, and all at once the room became wild and panicked. A simple whistle was all it took to calm them down, though.

"Thank you, Miss Scarlet," Sam/Scar rolls her eyes and walking away, and Mom/White steps up to the platform. She sends Gibby/Green and Carly/Peacock to send a message, though no one will get it in time for the party (She's still throwing that?), and the rest of us stay here to tend to the body while Sam/Scar gets the medical stuff. It's hopeless though; he's already long dead. As the assignment ends, and Spencer/Boddy is returned to his room, the only one of us who can say anything is the one person who shouldn't say anything: Gibby.

"Well, at least we know where he was all morning now, right?"

* * *

Oh, Gibby... I pity you. The hardest parts were the filler dialogue. Dialogue in general has never been my strong point. But I'm getting better!

Do a poor dead Spencer/Boddy a favor and review. At the very least, tell me how corny the chapter title was!


	5. Chapter 5

iClue

Disclaimer: Do you own an iCarly? Cause I can't seem to find mine... no, wait, I don't have one. Never mind. I own A clue game, but not THE clue game.

Author's Notes: So, Spencer's dead. Have to admit, I felt a little guilty doing that. I mean, it's SPENCER, who has he ever hurt? But, it's for the sake of entertainment, so I'm sure Spencer wouldn't mind, would ya, Spence? Oh, and in case you skip the chapter title, Sam/Scar and Freddie/Plum are gonna finally start working together. **ENJOY!**

* * *

Chapter 5: iMake a Truce With Sam/Scar

It took myself, Howard/Mustard, Gibby/Green, and Sam/Scar, to carry the dead boddy of Spencer/Boddy (Sorry; that was a lame joke) up the stairs to his room. It wasn't that the body was heavy; it's just that no one really wanted to touch it, seeing as he was still bleeding (Despite being dead), and his eyes were still open (Once we got to his room, I closed them). Finally, Sam/Scar snapped at us all for being babies, and tried to lift the body on her own. Then I thought, what the heck, and convinced Howard/Mustard and Gibby/Green to help. I think they only did it so they didn't look like wimps compared to us (Especially since one of us is a girl).

After we took care of the body, we sat around the living room, trying to figure out what to do next. We are all pretty calm...

"**AAAHHHH**!!!! We're all gonna _**DIE**_!!!"

...Well, except for Gibby/Green. Man, that dude screams **LOUD**! After a few minutes of this Sam/Scar tells him to silence or face the wrath of the Invisible Ham Ninja. That confuses everyone but myself (Who knows about Sam's desire to be an invisible ninja), so she explains that it's 'cool people' talk for she's gonna kick his butt if he doesn't shut up (Well, not in those exact words, but in that ballpark).

We don't hear from him for the rest of the meeting.

"Well, what are we gonna do?" Mom/White's panicking up a storm. We all stare at her as she paces the room and babbles, "We have to call the police, the army, **SOMEBODY**! You're all either children or really old, you can't handle a murderer! And I certainly know that I can't handle a murderer! What do we do?! What do we do?! What do we-" Sam/Scar, annoyed, cuts her off with a smack to the face. Mom/White holds her cheek (Where she was smacked), and stares at Sam/Scar with a look of surprise. It didn't look like it hurt; she's just shocked that it happened at all.

"We have to get out of here!" Carly/Peacock says, a worried expression adorning her face. She glances around the room, as if trying to find a way out. In a way, she seems kinda like a claustrophobic person trapped in a small room; only without the hyperventilating,

"We can't," Howard/Mustard addressed her bluntly, "Go anywhere. We have a murderer among us, and don't think you women are counted out. You're just as guilty as us!" His tone was cruel, as if her were attempting to use her insecurity and fear against her. Carly looks at him, aghast by his words.

"A-Are you trying to say that... **I'M** the murderer!" Her shocked expression suddenly transforms into one I rarely see from Carly: Anger. Obviously she's outraged at the supposed accusation. I decide to cut in.

"Hey, no one's accusing anyone of anything! We **DO** have a murderer among us... he's just trying to point out that gender will not get you acquitted," I gulp, and turn to Sam, hoping that she's not mad at my suggestion. Instead, she just nods at me to continue, "Any one of us could be the murderer; we can't afford to have pretenses when faced with a killer. Everyone, including myself, is a suspect," A collective round of gasps went around the room, while Sam/Scar rolls her eyes at them... or is it at me?

Whatever, I can't afford to ponder at times like this. Then, Mom makes a suggestion all of us agree on, for once, "Why don't we all go back to our rooms and think this over?" After another collective round, of nods this time, we all head upwards to return to our bedrooms, and try not to think about the corpse next door.

My thoughts are interrupted when a hand grabs my wrist and jerks me into the theater. There's no one else in here, just me and whoever yanked me in here. I turn around, "So, whataya want, Scar?"

She scowls, not having the element of surprise taken from her, "How'd ya know it was me?" Her voice is more curious than scornful, so I explain.

"Well, your the only one taking any kind of action about the murder, you seemed kinda quiet during the meeting, meaning you had nothing to say in front of those people, and I could smell the ham on your breath from the dining room!" Sam/Scar sighs, dropping her angry act and letting me see how she really feels. Which is confused.

"Listen..." She began, "Spencer Boddy was the only reason I got into acting school; They don't welcome poor girls in with open arms, do they? I-We were closer than we seemed, he's almost like a brother to me," She turns her head, ashamed to show weakness. Another similarity between her and the real Sam. Hey, maybe I should write a book on this!

"So, what are you saying?" I ask cautiously. Even though this is my mind, it's still Sam I'm talking to.

"I'm saying," She turns her face away from me, and speaks really quickly, "_**Ineedyourhelp**_," I stare at her blankly, not catching any of that.

"What?"

"I **SAID**..." Sam sighs, then repeats what she said, "I need your help to solve this. I can't do it on my own, but I gotta avenge Spencer!" It feels weird, referring to this world's Mr. Boddy as Spencer. Though they are everything alike, it's still weird. Surly they must have had SOME difference. But, other than the whole one's living in reality, and one's dead in my mind thing, I can't think of any.

"Okay, so you want me to help you solve this murder. Then what, we call the police?" I couldn't help but inquire. What exactly does she have planned for this guy? Then again, this is (To some extent) Sam, and she once beat up a hobo for spilling salsa on her. And she was wearing a red shirt! I don't get that chick in the slightest, but I can't exactly fight her now, can I?

"No, we beat up the hob-knocker, then you can call the police if you want. Forget about legal justice! This is vengeance, Fredward Plum, vengeance!" At this, she starts cackling madly. I don't feel quite sane at the moment, cause any other man would run out of here screaming. I sit her down on one of the theater chairs as she begins to breathe normally again. How long had she been laughing? Eh, like I was keeping track!

"So," She says coolly, as though nothing had happened, "Do we have a deal?"

I thought about it, puzzled. What I really want is to get out of this coma and beat up the guy who framed Sam. Then again, maybe this is some kind of test? I have no idea. A random thought just suggests I go along with it. Oddly enough, this is the same voice I listened to when Sam and I kissed... long story. I stare at her outstretched hand for a moment, unsure of what to do.

Then, I clutch her wrist firmly in my hand and shake gently.

"Deal,"

* * *

Was this a wise choice? Will Sam/Scar and Freddie/Plum find the murderer? How does this tie in with my other story? And WHY was Gibby so quiet earlier? AAHH!! It's the apocalypse!

Review and I might just save the world.


	6. Chapter 6

iClue

Disclaimer: Clue: Not mine. iCarly: Not mine. Tacos: MINE!

Author's Notes: And so, another chapter being written by my hand. I hope you enjoy this, cause I put a lot of effort into it. Another tie-in with my other story, _**iBecome a Private Eye**_. Includes real Sam! And marks the beginning of the investigation.

* * *

Chapter 6: iDream of a Puckett

This. Is. Torture.

"**SCAR**! Do you really have to do that?" I ask as she feels my legs, my torso, whatever, for weapons or anything that seems unusual. Like a police searching you after your arrested. It's not only uncomfortable; it's disturbing.

She takes the time to stare me in the eye, annoyance rather than anger shining in her eyes, "Yeah, I have to. You said yourself; Anyone of us could be the murderer. And I'm not accusing you," She adds after I glare at her, "I just believe in the 'better safe than sorry' saying," Then she resumes searching my leg. Much like the REAL Sam, something tells me Scar is innocent. An instinctual trust I share with her, like I share with Sam. Okay, I'm confusing myself, I'll stop right now.

But, for all intents and purposes, she's right. I'm not anymore above suspicion than anyone else. In a case of life or death, 'Innocent until proven guilty' is the other way around. She can't afford to take any risks. But in that case...

"Why are you letting me help you if any one of us, including myself, could be the murderer?" I ask. Sam/Scar sighs, rubbing her temples like she's got a headache. Actually, that's likely, considering what's going on. In an exasperated tone, she addresses me.

"I don't know, okay? I have to be suspicious of you, but at the same kind... my gut's telling me your not guilty. And I tend to trust my gut," She looks over, giving me a ghost of a smile, "There's something weird, different about you, I know, I can sense it. The others may be stupid enough not to, but I can tell," A sigh escapes her lips, and she stares at me, as if she knows I have a secret, but can't quite figure it out.

I stare at her, trying to decide what to do. Finally...

"You wanna know the truth? It starts with a girl named Sam Puckett..."

* * *

"...and that's how I ended up here," I finish my tale. Sam/Scar merely sits there, taking it all in. I think I overloaded her brain. She's completely quiet, which isn't a good sign, considering she's based off Sam in every way possible, from looks to personality.

"So... I'm not real? Just apart of your imagination?" That seems to have hit her hardest. Without thinking twice about it, I pull her into an embrace. Which is kinda stupid, considering she's still Sam, and could pound me into ground beef before I could say 'ouch'. But she accepts the hug, carefully embracing me back in her moment of weakness. After a moment, she pushes me off, growling. Still hates looking weak. Still hates me. Figures.

"Scar, your real... just not right as you are," Okay, that confused even myself, and sure enough, Sam/Scar didn't get it either, "I mean, your Sam, in every aspect. Meaning you are real... just not here," Lessened her puzzlement, but she still looks confused.

"Look," I try to reason with her, "I'm trapped here, and for all intents and purposes, this is reality right now. And we need to find this murderer. So, what have you got in mind?" She bites her lip, looking thoughtful, before telling me what she thinks.

"We gotta find a way to wake you up. We'll solve the mystery, and then we'll work to restore your consciousness. It's the only thing we can do, if you think about it," I nod, and take my strange notes outta my pocket. Sam/Scar calmly inquires what they are.

"I really don't know; they just came to me randomly," Sam/Scar looks them over, trying to determine what they are. I really can't be sure either. Most of it's just notes on the human mind and-

"'Are you stupid?" Well, aren't you nice?

"And this is relevant and not completely random because...?"

"Because your notes are directions!" I look at her, puzzled, before taking a second glance at my notes, and noticing that, indeed, they are directions. A list of things I need to do to do...

"Wait, what're these directions for?"

"I'm... not sure. But we should probably follow them if they came from you,"

"Well, read it to me, Scar,"

"Don't tell me what to do!" She snaps, then reads the list, "Alright... sit on the floor, pretzel style," She really still uses the pretzel style term? Whatever, it's Sam... kinda.

I sit on the floor, crossing my legs 'pretzel style', and send her a glance to prod her to continue.

"Now, get into a meditation stance, and clear your mind... that's all it says," She announces. Though this thing makes no sense what so ever, I obey her command. My eyes shut (More instinctively than anything), and I feel my mind calm. My arms and hands move into a meditation pose, and I let go of every worry, every fear, every doubt. Just as I blank out, a calm, somewhat familiar voice whispers to me.

"_Just relax..."_

* * *

_When I open my eyes, it takes a moment for me to recognize where I am. Sam's bedroom. I haven't been in here since we were children. Well, in a way, we still are children. The second thing I notice is Sam, sleeping calmly in her bed. She's not dressed in a red gown... she's wearing her regular 'I don't care what you have to say' clothing. Though this sight amuses me, I remind myself why I'm here and prod her awake._

"_Sam..." I call out gently, "Sam..."_

"_Go away," Is mumbled at me half-heartedly. Sam isn't really awake, she's just stirring. Then, one of her bright blue eyes opens. She obviously didn't expect me, because the moment she catches sight of me, both her eyes widen in shock, "Freddie?"_

"_Hey, Sam," I force myself to act casual, when in reality, I'm just as excited as she is. I never really thought I'd see her again. I inspect her quickly. No injuries, hair's still blond, clothing the same as the day I fell into a coma. How long have I been out? Instead, I ask, "How's... life?" Real smooth, Fredward._

"_Well, not boring..." She starts off, then continues,"But not exactly fun, either. I've picked up where you left off, dork. I'm finding psycho pyro stalker," I didn't think she would do that for me- wait. Psycho Pyro Stalker? Where did that come from? I didn't get a chance to ask as she continues, "When I find him or her, he or she is getting a special beating in your honor," I couldn't help laughing. Same old Sam, I hope she never changes. Well, she could cut down on the insults some more, but still..._

_Oh, I'm supposed to say something, aren't I?"Well, you wouldn't be Sam otherwise, now would you?" I ask. She smirks in response, this almost feeling like a sweet moment. Then..._

_The interrogation starts._

"_Why are you here? **HOW** are you here?Why are you wearing that stupid suit? Who tried to kill you? What's the meaning of life?" At first, I have a little trouble keeping up with her wild questions. Then, I decide to put my finger to her lips. This effectively silences her. After they sink into my system, I answer them one by one._

"_One question at a time, okay, Puckett? I'll answer them in order, mostly: I'm here to check on you, because I was worried about you," I didn't mean for that one to slip out of my mouth, but now that it has, I realize it's the truth. I **AM** worried about Sam. Terrifying, isn't it?_

"_Second, it's been theorized that people in coma's have more power within there own mind. Call this the proof," Well, that one is true. I have heard that somewhere before. Does it matter that I can't remember where? That's what the notes were for: So I could contact Sam. My own mind instructing me how. It's so interesting, how-_

"_Your such a geek, Fredweird," That knocks me out of my mental rant. Drats, I can't waste time! I don't know how long I'm gonna be here, in what I can only assume is Sam's dreams._

"_Whatever, Sam. Third, well, that's a long story. I'll tell you when I wake up. Believe me, I hate this suit too, but I gotta where it," I raise one eyebrow, "As for your final question... 42," She giggles at that last private joke, ans I couldn't help smiling at her. There were times when she was so innocent..._

_...and times when she was a complete terror. Anyway, I try to tell her what went down at the school, but something in my mind tells me not to; I can't explain it, it's so weird. Like, a safety switch. I force myself to tell Sam, "And last, well... I'm sorry, Sam, I can't tell you that,"_

_Her glare still has all the fire it had when I was conscious, was the only thought I could focus on as she yells, "Why not?" at me. _

_I reply, "Because, I can't give you the answer. I don't know why, it's like something is stopping me. I can't explain it. But, I'm sure you're doing great on your own," She looks down at her feet, like there's something interesting there._

"_Not really, Freddork. I can't do this on my own, I got me a partner, and sadly it's Nevel," Huh? Why would she partner with Nevel? Moreover, why would Carly LET her partner with Nevel? All this is running through my head, though my only response is a raised eyebrow. Then I say:_

"_Nevel? Why, why not Carly? Isn't she your best friend?"_

"_Some friend," Sam snorts,"She let Briggs and Howard corrupt her. They showed her the security tapes; she thinks I did it," I couldn't help but notice the sadness in her eyes and voice as she said this, and I can't blame her. Carly is supposed to be her best friend... why wouldn't she be on Sam's side?_

"_Huh, would've thought Carly's more stubborn than that," I state coolly. Sam looks upon me with such sadness, I pull her into a hug. She seems shocked, but holds it. I guess she thinks this is just a dream. All of a sudden, I feel something pulling me, trying to force me back into my own mind, "Sam, I gotta go now,"_

_Sam looks at me. The look in her eyes make me wanna stay, but I know I have to go. "No!" She shouts out. I can't tell her everything, but I can give her hints, right?_

"_Sam... it's okay," I inform her, "Don't trust gifts, and keep an eye out for brown-eyed clowns," I have to at least warn her about the assassins hired by the pyro and her accomplice. I can feel myself drift away, "Bye, Sam,"_

"_**NO!**"_

* * *

I awaken once again to find myself lying on the bed of my room in Tudor Manor, with Sam/Scar hovering above me worriedly.

"Are you okay? What happened? What did that do?" She seems curious, doesn't she? I force some air into my lungs, turn to her, and state calmly.

"Nothing to worry about, Scar. Just visiting an old friend,"

* * *

Well, that was probably the longest thing I've ever written. **EVER**! Be proud to have read it! Er- ignore that last statement.

Review, por favor!


	7. Chapter 7

iClue

Disclaimer: Clue, iCarly, what difference does it make? What matters is that they're not mine.

Author's Notes: Okay... well, if you were trapped in a mansion with a murderer on the loose, what would you do? Well, besides run, hide, and scream. Investigate every inch of said mansion, of course! Sam/Scar and Freddie/Plum are using common sense (For once).

* * *

Chapter 7: iInvestigate the Manor

"Hey, you feeling okay?" Scar asks for the millionth time. I refused to tell her what happened, what I said. Sam... she needs to know. But the now is more important then the yesterday, and now I'm in a coma, working with a Sam look-alike to find a murderer in a mansion in some part of my psyche, while trying to wake myself up.

Yeah... that's not insane.

Anyway, back to the now. Scar is trying to get me to help her investigate the mansion, while I ponder on what happened in that strange dream featuring the demonic blonde. Well, the** OTHER** demonic blonde. I can't get it out of my head, her wishing I was back. Does that mean anything? Na, just the concern of a friend. I gotta stop wasting time wondering.

"You **SURE** your okay to investigate with me?" Scar asks. I glance at her, and she looks serious. She's genuinely worried. That's a rare thing to see from any Puckett, even the ever-evasive Melanie. I shutter when I think of her. I gotta find a way back to Sam, but not now. Now, Scar needs me.

"I'm fine. C'mon, this manor isn't gonna investigate itself, now is it?" And we're off.

* * *

AGH! We've been through the theater, the living room, the dining room, and the patio, and not a trace of anything that would be helpful. Our next destination was the lounge. I suggested we search the front hall, but Scar had said she'd already done that. I still think we should check it again, but I can't risk hurting Scar's pride. She'd kill me before I could say 'I'. Yeah, she's that dangerous. Ugh, this guy (Or girl) is clever, I'll give them that.

So, anyways, in the lounge.

Scar and I are looking over this place with as much care as possible. She takes one-half of the room, I take the other. If we find anything of interest, we call the other over. That's the way we've been operating this investigation. One step at a time.

"Find anything?" Scar calls over to me.

"Nope," I answer, slightly morbid, "You?"

"Nada,"

I sigh, and sit down on the floor. Or at least, that's my intention. Instead, I end up hitting my knee off something on the floor. With a rather loud yelp, I pull back, and examine my knee. Scar comes over, and scowls at what she sees me doing.

"Seriously, Fredward?" She asks, looking rather annoyed at me for having stopped the investigation for bumping my knee, "Your such a baby, the worst it can do is bruise," I scowl dejectedly at her.

"I know that! I hit it on something!" She stops her eye rolling and sits next to me on the floor, feeling around for what I could have possibly hurt myself with. To her surprise, her hands run over something that had formally been hidden by the rug on the floor. She glares at me, while I smirk in a sort of gloating manner. She was wrong, and I was right! HA!

Well, getting past that rare moment of glory, Scar and I roll the rug back, and are able to see a trapdoor on the floor, with a knob (Which is where I hit my knee). We sit there in stunned silence for a moment, unsure of what to do now.

"Well... that would explain how Spencer can get in and out of this place without anyone noticing," I comment randomly as we take the fact that there are probably passages within the manor. Scar takes a moment to think, then turns to me and says:

"I'm gonna open it," It wasn't a question, or a comment. Her tone strictly said _Got any problems with that, bub?_, and I'm not one to go against the toughest person in this household, as well as my only ally at current moments. Plus, I don't feel like having myself disemboweled.

And then she opened it.

It's dark down there, with a lantern on the wall glowing dimly. I can't see much. The only thing connecting the trapdoor to the floor, roughly ten feet down, is a barely sturdy ladder, which looks like it could break any moment. And I doubt there are any flashlights in the manor. I turn to Scar, who turns to look at me at the same time. I give her a smile.

"Ladies first,"

Scar and I climb through the catacomb like tunnels carefully. The ladder trip, and the walk was pretty much uneventful. Well, until now. We came to a five way intersection. Randomly picking the one across from us, we take the tunnel to the end, and end up...

In the spa?

Hidden near the bath is another trapdoor. Lucky for us, nobody's in here. If they were, well, we would have a lot of explaining to do, now, wouldn't we?

"Well, Fredward, I certainly didn't explain to end up here," Scar's less than pleased that this is where we ended up. I turn to help her climb out of the trapdoor.

"Neither did I," I respond honestly, "The other tunnels must connect to the other corners of the house... the kitchen and the observatory," I recall.

Scar looks at me, "I think Spencer knew about the trapdoors, but does anyone else?"

"Peacock told us herself she's related to Spencer, so she might. Dunno about the others though," We take a moment to look at each other, and both of us make a silent agreement with our eyes that this will be our little secret. Nobody else can know.

* * *

Wow... that was harder than I thought it would be. Also, to anyone confused, Freddie refers to Scar and Sam separately now, it's because he acknowledges them as separate beings, not one and the same. Plus, since Sam herself is involved in the story, it's kinda confusing to refer to both of them.

BYE BYE! REVIEW BUTTONS DOWN THERE!


	8. Chapter 8

iClue

Disclaimer: No ownership of either iCarly or Clue here.

Author's Notes: I DO TOO HAVE A PLOT! What, you think I just right down strange stuff everyday! This requires a lot of thought and a lot of planning! Let's see you write an iCarly mystery! Then you'll see how tough it is to- sorry, little stressed. Finals are in two weeks! *Gulp*

* * *

Chapter 8: iLook for the Weapon

Scar and I looked all over the manor, using the hidden tunnels, and we were, miraculously, not caught. I thought for sure when we went back to the lounge that Mustard had caught us, but luckily he was asleep. Now, we both are in my room (The only safe room in the manor to talk), and are discussing what to do next. Actually, that's not right. The next step's already decided. We're talking (arguing, actually) about how to do it.

"C'mon, it's obviously a knife," Scar argues, "We just gotta find out WHO'S knife it is," In care you haven't noticed, we're arguing about the murder weapon. I sigh, shaking my head.

"Scar, the knife wound could've been an engineered ruse to put us off track," I respond, "To keep us from the real weapon. I should know; this is my mind, or have you forgotten?" Scar growls at me, very scarily, and I somehow maintain my neutral composure, though this scares me as much as it would have in the real world.

"Alright, so let's say it's not a knife," She compromises, "How are we supposed to find out which weapon it was. Anything from a gun to that trophy!" She's referring to one of Spencer Boddy's Art Awards, which he has placed randomly around the mansion to make himself look cooler. Or at least, I guess that's there purpose.

"So, we splitting up this time?" I ask, somewhat reluctantly. Without Scar, I can't really defend myself. If the murderer gets his/her hands on me without her around... well, Sam will be all on her own in this world.

Scar sighs, obviously as against the prospect of splitting up as I am, and reluctantly nods. I take a deep breath, and shake her hand.

"If I die, make sure this place doesn't get shut down, okay?"

* * *

I think the best way to determine what weapon was used is to examine the body (No lame pun this time). It was impossible to do that when the body was first discovered, with all the panic. Now, I can get a good look at the corpse without the interference of others. Scar's job is to gather up potential weapons for investigation. My job is to look over the body. I'm not properly equipped (Or registered) for an autopsy, so just looking at it will have to do.

When enter the bedroom where the corpse is being stored (Spencer's bedroom), I am mildly surprised to see Carlotta there. Mildly because they ARE related, so it would make sense for her to be mourning him worse than most of us. I wonder how close they were before he... well, you know.

I approach the bed, on the side of which Carlotta is sitting, and notice she's humming gently and sweetly under her breath. All the while, stroking the face of the deceased and sobbing silent tears which no one could have noticed unless they were close enough to hear the humming. Not really wanting to disrupt her (But having to), I tap her shoulder oh so gently. She lets out a soft gasp (Must not have heard me come in), and turns to me. A faint smile lights her tear-stained face.

"Oh, Professor," She says, looking down, "I didn't hear you come in," She tries to hide the fact that she was crying by discreetly wiping her tears away on her sleeve.

I gaze upon her with only pity in my eyes, "I'm sorry about your... er, whatever Spencer was to you. I didn't really know him personally, but I'm sure he was a good man," Carlotta smiles sadly, looking up at my face. For a moment, she seems even more vulnerable than ever.

"He was," She assures me, with the kind gentleness of a mother, "And he was my... brother. Though we didn't grow up in the same home; If anything, he's more like a distant uncle you can't help but love than an older brother. My gosh, I miss him..." She stares down upon the corpse, her temporary happiness at remembering what a good person Spencer was leaving her. Now her eyes show only mourning.

Being the kind person I am, I try to change the subject, "What was that song you were humming earlier?" She glances at me.

"How long were you listening in on me?" She asks, all seriousness. I give her a faint grin before answering:

"Long enough. You gonna answer me, or not?" She looks away.

"It was a song my grandmother taught me," She stares out the nearby window, showing a perfect view of the lake nearby, "A beautiful song... but I can't remember the lyrics. So I just hum it. Spencer always liked when I sang it for him, so I'm using it to bless his soul now," Her gaze shifts back to me, "But that's not why your here, is it? I have to go now, anyways," And with that, she heads out the door. I frown, before turning to the corpse. No time to let sympathy in the way. I've got an investigation to finish.

My look over the body was... well, it wasn't the best experience of my life. My mind certainly can be vivid, that's for sure.

Along with the stab wound in his chest, he's been severely beaten around the torso with... something. And there's a large bruise on the top of his head. If it weren't for the numerous cuts and bruises on his chest and stomach, I would've guessed it was a blow to the cerebral. If it weren't for the giant bruise on his head, I would've guessed he died from internal bleeding due to his numerous injuries. And then there's the gaping stab wound in his chest. And, between you and me, I took a blood sample. Ha, wouldn't my dad be proud? I secretly sent it out to be tested by a college; Not even Scar knows about it, and I don't think I should tell her about this one. She'll flip.

Speaking of Scar, she's already entered my room.

"What'd you find?" We both ask simultaneously. I take a moment to laugh nervously, and Scar suddenly finds her feet interesting. After a moment, I dare to go first, telling her of my findings. She doesn't seem impressed.

"Well, I could've told you that, had I taken that job," She frowns at me. I glance at her, reminding her that I'm a professor of Psychology, not medical science. That seems to shut her up.

"And you?" I ask.

Scar, as it turns out, had found some interesting stuff. A rusted knife, an equally rusted ax, a blood covered candlestick, an old metal bat, a dented trophy, a rope (Found in the hall; She'd overlooked it) an old dumbbell with a little chunk missing, a pistol (There were no gun wounds found, but that might come in handy), and...

"Rat poison?" I question as I hold the bottle. Scar grins at me.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to consider it, right?" Scar continues, ignoring me at present, "I found it in the kitchen; It's partially empty, but that might be from rats around the manor," We look back at each other.

"Well, it's not much," I confess; There are too many to make an accurate guess as to what the weapon actually is, "But it's a start, and when there's a will, there's a way. Do you got the will, Scar?"

Her response is a nod.

* * *

Well, there it is, chapter 8. My stupid friend called in the middle of making this; and I was already behind due to personal issues, so I stayed up late to finish this. Enjoy it?

Nah, too tired to press for reviews. If ya want, ya know where the button is.


	9. Chapter 9

iClue

Disclaimer: Can I just skip this part *Sigh*, I don't own iCarly OR Clue. Kay.

Author's Notes: It's so hard to concentrate, what with finals, friends, and my little sister. Ugh, sisters! Oh, just ignore that if ya read it and take offense. So, here, without further adieu, is "Connell the Amazing Rabid Squirrel!". Oh, no, never mind. Just another chapter of iClue.

* * *

Chapter 9: iInterrogate Gibson Green

I don't dream in this world. Or, at least, that's what I thought. But when I close my eyes to succumb to exhaustion for a moment, I see some sort of white light, followed by Sam saying something. Well, usually it's Sam. Sometimes it's my mom, and once or twice, it is Carly. I'm not too happy about her just abandoning Sam in her time of need, but every time I hear her, Carly is expressing regret about her decision. It was then that I realized something. The white light wasn't death, it's my portal back to reality! Of course, Scar didn't care when I told her, but this is a major break through in getting me home. All I gotta do is find the white light... wherever it is.

My main concern is getting out of here and back to reality, so I can help Sam. Scar completely agrees, though we also have the murder to focus on. I still have this strange inkling that we should follow this through. Maybe I'm just nervous.

At any rate, Scar and I need to look for the murderer in the next best way: Spying. This, I've actually been looking forward to. Not only do we have a right to go through other people's past and personal lives, but we get to go into the other rooms! I've only been in my own room, Spencer's, and Scar's, once. They were all beautiful, yet unique. It seems so strange that such an intricate place can exist in the depths of my psyche. Or, maybe I'm just still trying to absorb the fact that I'm in a coma. Either way, we have some stuff to discuss first.

"Split up or together?" This first, yet crucial question came from Scar. I look down at my feet (Or rather, my brown leather shoes), and speak my opinion.

"It's true that we'd probably cover more ground separate," I begin, "But I'd feel more comfortable if we were together the entire time," To my surprise, Scar lets out a sigh of relief and nods.

"Okay," She agrees, "I'd feel safer with you by my side anyways," She looks down at her feet while saying this, her eyes half-closed.

I grin, "What, can't handle yourself, Scarlet?" I question in a tone of pure mocking. Scar looks up and gives me a very Sam-like grin, cocky and mischievous, with hints of mock anger.

"Nah, I'd waste my time being worried about you," Her reply coolly lets me know that she did care, like the real Sam would, but wouldn't let me know it. That's probably as close to an 'I care for you, Freddie', as I'll ever get from either of the she-demons.

She tosses her head casually to the side, "So, which bedroom first?"

In the end, we choose Green's bedroom first. Not like it mattered. In fact, we took a dice, labeled each side with a color (Excluding ourselves, of course), and rolled it to determine which room we'd be searching first. However, there was one thing we didn't count on.

Green's door is locked.

Scar growls, still trying to open it with her hands, while I wonder if she knows how to pick locks, like the real Sam can. She should, shouldn't she? In was about to suggest as much when we heard two very familiar voices coming our way. Howard's and Green's.

Of course.

Scar curses beside me, but I ignore it (For now; I'll beret her for swearing later) and pull us into the nearby restroom, praying he doesn't have to go to the bathroom. Luckily for us, he says goodbye to Howard, and was probably gonna open the door when...

"Oh, drat! I was supposed to ask Mrs. White about those towels!" And he bolts off. Leaving the door wide open. Wow.

"Well, that was a lucky break," comments Scar. I nod, wordlessly beckoning her to follow me. And follow she did. We went into the room, and this... is nothing like my room. The bedroom itself would have been beautiful, had it not been littered with Green's junk. There are clothes and random stuff all over the place. Scar takes one look around the room, and says, "Well, we've certainly got our work cut out for us, huh?"

It's probably wisest to ignore her right now.

We search around the room: Scar on one side, myself on the other. I simply take stuff, glance through it to see if it's any use, and toss it. Scar's method of searching is pretty much the same. We continue this for a while when I come across something that makes my eyes widen. I bite my lip and yip, which is the only thing that seems to keep me from screaming. Scar hears my little yip and rushes over, her own eyes widening at my discovery.

In my hands, was a gun case for the very pistol Scar had found...

* * *

Hiding under a bed is **NOT** as fun as it would seem to a child. Especially when you make a small movement and end up with a face-full of dirty sock. Yuck. I really didn't want to hide under here, but Scar's got the closet, and I really don't want to make her wait under the bed. Which, by the way, is torture. Next time we go through someone's stuff, let's choose someone slightly cleaner, okay?

Well, now that we've got that settled, I'll tell you **WHY** I am hiding under a bed.

We're gonna take Green by surprise, make him answer a few questions, and possibly arrest someone for murder. I don't know if he's trustworthy, and this only confirms my suspicions. Scar backs me up on that one.

The door opens, and I hear Green's voice telling White to have a swell day (Who says swell?). As soon as the door closes, I bolt out from under the bed and force Green against the wall. Scar, who came out at roughly the same time I did, gags him and helps me carry him to the bed. From there, we proceed to tie him down.

The moment I take the gag off, he spits in my face. Well, now I know why Scar let me do this part. Trying (And probably failing) not to appear grossed out, I begin our interrogation.

"Alright Green," I start cautiously, "If that is your real name; What are you doing here?"

"Uh," He starts out sarcastically, "This is MY room. Now what are you two doing in here?" Scar proceeds to slap him.

"We'll be asking the question here, buddy boy! Now, how do you know Mr. Boddy?" Scar glares at him, and I can see a rebuttal on his tongue, but it dies when he sees Scar's expression.

"Listen, Boddy and I were friends a long time ago, okay? He owed me something, and thought this sleep-over of his would take care of it. Now, any more stupid questions?" Huh, he sounds like Nevel, ranting on like that. Should I tell him? Nah.

"Aright, so what about this?" I held up the gun case. The eyes of the person before me became like dinner plates: Wide and round.

"L-listen, don't tell anyone about that! I've managed to avoid the others suspicions, but I swear, the case and it's corresponding pistol is for self-defense only. I carry it with me everywhere!" Scar looks at him oddly, but I know he's telling the truth. I can sense it in his eyes. Also, I sense fear, which could be useful later.

"Let him go," I finally sigh. Scar gaps at me, and Green takes this moment to kick us both out of his room, shoving us. I didn't give any resistance; Scar's too stunned to think about it. The door slams behind us. Then suddenly, it opens again.

"If you guys see my pistol, could you give it back? I haven't seen it since I showed it to Colonel Mustard yesterday," And the door slams again.

Alright, maybe that could have gone better. But at least we have a lead.

* * *

Or do they? MUAHAHAHAHA! I'm so cruel!

Review, or I won't get any sleeps tonight!


	10. Chapter 10

iClue

Disclaimer: Blah Blah Blah, I don't own iCarly or clue. Blah Blah.

Author's Notes: Yeah, so no real hints as to who the murderer is yet... unless you're psychic. But then you probably wouldn't waste your time with this story, now, would you? Anyway, subtle hints as to who the murderer is, though knowing myself, I'll probably accidentally give it away. Boohoo.

* * *

Chapter 10: iDiscover a Secret

So, let's recap:

Suspects: Green. Things against him: He secretly brought a weapon to the household. Things for him: He's simple minded and forgets things easily. Plus he's completely childish. I don't think he could handle a mission like this. Mustard. Things against him: He's got training in killing, and is a pretty bitter man all around. Just like the real Howard. Things for him: He hasn't caused any real problems for us yet. Peacock. Against her: According to Scar, the dented trophy was found in her room. For her: She's related to him, she's mourning him more than the rest of us, and she's too nice to do something this cruel. Still, can't rule her out just yet. White. Against her: She's the maid. In the movies, it's always the maid. Plus, she must know the house and host pretty well. She does work here. For her: She doesn't seem to be paying much mind to all that goes on around the manor. She's an excellent maid, but a terrible gossip. She must not know us too well, but if Spencer's had her around for that long, you'd think she'd be trustworthy. On a side note, she looks like my mom. That's not going to get her acquitted, though.

Weapons: A knife, rusted with age, not water. An ax, though it seems to be rusted with some sort of thin liquid. Possibly water. A candlestick, with dried blood on the end where the candle goes. A bat. Metal, hard enough to break someone's skull... or ribs, as the case may be. A trophy. Dented. Found in the room of Carlotta Peacock. A rope. The only one I would toss right away; but it was the only thing that could be a weapon in the Hall, where Spencer was killed. Dumbbell. Ten pounds. There are heavier ones, but Scar brought this one hear to represent them all. Also, this one has a small piece missing, though that could be coincidence. Pistol. Not loaded. Belongs to Reverend Green. Fully loaded. Not a real possibility, because the corpse had no gun wounds. Only thing incriminating Green. I think we should return it, actually. He's too nice to actually ever fire it, anyways. Poison. Meant for rats, but can work on people. Half-empty (Or half-full). Found in the kitchen, nearly on the other side of the manor from the hall.

Conclusion: My mind is a messed up place full of murder, lame 20's themes, and intricate architecture designs.

I sigh as I put the notebook I had been writing in down. It's a good idea to record the evidence, though that last bit was just to accept the fact that I'm probably crazy. But, from my mom's over-protectiveness, Sam's torture of me throughout my teenagedom (Don't laugh; It's a real term!), my crush on Carly Shay, and what's been going on recently, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if I was insane.

Huh, weird.

Scar's gone down to the Living Room to get some info outta Mustard. Yuck, I pity the poor girl. He's about as pleasant as his counterpart. His counterpart was so cruel he made Gibby puke. Enough said. I meanwhile, have the job of interrogating- err, I mean _**questioning**_- White. Good, I sound like Sam more and more. _Shiver_. Well, a job's a job. So, better get moving.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. White," I begin politely, with a tone of underlying terror that Sam uses to make me feel uncomfortable. It doesn't just work on me, though; All kinds of people are freaked out by that scary tone of voice. Good way to start an interrogation.

Unfortunately for me, she only sees it as the voice of a mischief-maker, "Whataya want, boy, I've got chores to do. Even if Mr. Boddy is dead, a job's a job! Gotta keep working," You see where I get my determination from. When Mom sets her mind to something, she doesn't give up. Ever. That's why she's so protective of me.

Nonetheless, I continue on my questioning, "Where were you yesterday during the time of the body's discovery" A deep scowl sets into her face.

"Oh, you want an alibi, eh? Fine," She sighs, like she doesn't want to do this. And I can imagine why. Poor woman's being accused of her master's murder, "When the body was found, I was cleaning up after you pigs' breakfast like a good little maid. Happy?" Her voice drips with sarcasm during that last word. I, not used to being spoken to in that tone by _**her**_, of all people, momentarily lose focus. Then I remember this isn't real. She isn't my mom. She's a maid who knows me as well as I know Howard.

"Look, er, Mrs. White, it's nothing personal, my partner and I just-" She cuts me off.

"Partner?" Echos the voice of the maid, "Who could you trust enough to help you?" She's caught off guard! Now I have to trick her into saying something...

"Not important, just tell me where you were before breakfast. None of us went into the hall noticeably until I found the corpse," She bites her lip, as if refusing to let them respond, but she eventually relents.

"I was placing rat poison in the manor. Did I forget to mention we have a slight rat problem?" I blink. That... isn't significant unless I find out another piece of information.

"And where are the rats? I hate the vermin," I scowl, as though I'm horribly irked, but truth be told I don't mind rodents. Actually, some are kinda cute. Don't tell my mom.

"Usually in the southern halls, but sometimes they end up in the dining room," I thank her for the info and leave. Man, is Scar gonna love this!

* * *

"So, I was right to take the rat poison," Oh, honestly, is that the only thing she can think about? Ugh, of course. When unfocused, Scar becomes immensely Sam-like. More than when she's serious. But for some reason, this just makes me like her more. Sam is one of my best friends, and I wouldn't have her traded for all the money in the world.

If you repeat that to anyone, I'll smack you six ways to Sunday.

Scar's investigation with Mustard had gone sour. Like I had tried to warn her, he was cold and refused to give her anything. They got into an argument, but realizing I was probably done with my own interview, she simply punched him out and left. She was probably getting bored, anyways.

"Well, I'm gonna go back to my own room, see if I can figure anything out," Scar says, turning around. Feeling I'd forgotten something, I call out to her. When she turns around, I realize I have nothing to say. Embarrassed, I suddenly remember something from my notes.

"Take Green's gun back to his room, please. It's not our murder weapon," Something tells me she's not gonna give it back...

* * *

And so ends another chapter of iClue. Few hints in this chapter, though they're pretty subtle, I think. Also, tomorrow is Thursday (Well, when I wrote this it was), so I'm preparing my Friday attitude. It's better than my normal one.

Give me an R! Give me an E! Give me a V! Give me a I! Give me a E! Give me a W! What's that spell? REVIEW


	11. Chapter 11

iClue

Disclaimer: You don't own them; I don't own them. Great, we've got that out of the way. Let the storytelling commence!

Author's Notes: Okay... you can just skip the part where I rant about how tough school is, how little time I have, how disruptive my friends are... etc. and go straight onto the good part. Whats sadder, is that you wasted your time reading this author's note.

* * *

Chapter 11:iTalk with Carlotta Peacock

My dreams here are pretty much my only portal to the world of the living. No, I'm not gonna refer to it like that. Makes me feel like I'm dead. I'll just say land of the conscious. In these dreams, I've seen Sam, Spencer, Mom, Carly, even Nevel from time to time. I wish I could go back and just give them the answer, but I've got my own mystery to solve.

And solved it shall become.

Once again Scar and I are heading off in different directions. Scar's gonna find out more about the building, the past owners, the current owner, and the secret passageways. To be truthful, I doubt anything will come of that research, but it keeps her busy, and that's good enough for me! Myself, well, today I shall be dealing with the lovely Carlotta Peacock. Question her about her older relative, and his relation with every living being in this household. Well... excluding the rats and bugs, of course.

I direct Scar to the observatory, which has multiple books on shelves built into the walls, "There, you should be able to find out **SOMETHING** from all the books in this room!" Scar didn't seem as ecstatic as I did.

"I have to read **ALL** of these? **WHY**? **WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO YOU**?" Okay, Fredward, you can get yourself out of this one. Just some clever words, and Scar will leave you alone.

"Uh, well, because..." Oh, just say something, Freddork! Wait, Freddork? Oh lord, I'm becoming more like Sam! "You can probably memorize these things faster than I can! You have always been smarter than me..." Ugh, I can't believe I just said that.

However, it has the desired effect: Making Scar want to do the work I've assigned her. She smirks, muttering a, "Duh," Before beginning to read a book about the house's architecture. Happy with the setup (For now), I head to the only bedroom in the house I'd never seen before.

Carlotta Peacock's.

Well... what had I expected?

Carlotta's room, much like the other rooms, is unique and has it's own special character. The walls are an off-white color, and have multiple paintings adding color to the otherwise much too common looking room. That's not what gives this room it's character though. It's the many statues and statuettes placed seemingly randomly around the room. They're all Spencer's work, I can tell. It's just one of those things you know the moment they happen. Each statue is carved with care, while putting the touches of Spencer-ness into them. Defiantly Spencer's work.

"Well," The somewhat impatient voice of Carlotta interrupts my thoughts, "Are you gonna sit there and gawk at me, or are we gonna talk?" I blush out of embarrassment, sitting next to her and muttering a half-heartfelt apology.

"No," She sighs, "I'm sorry; I've been a little on edge since Spencer... you know," I nod sympathetically. The poor girl had lost the only family she truly had. To be truthful, I can't help but pity her, though pity is the last thing she needs at the moment.

"It's alright," I respond, then, mostly to change the subject, "Did Spencer do these?" Did I imagine it, or was that the ghost of a smile that flickered upon the girl's tear-stained face?

"Yeah, he was always quite the artist; That's how he got his fortune, in fact," Carlotta, beams at me, looking a little less depressed looking back at the good times. I suddenly remember why I'm here.

I clear my throat, catching her attention, "Pardon my asking, but, could you tell me Mr. Boddy's relation with the rest of the guests?" Carlotta smiles weakly, probably expecting this turn of events, and turns to the window, watching the rain that was falling. Was it raining a moment ago?

"My brother... was infinity kind. Perhaps too much, really. Everyone here he helped out at one point. I'm here because I'm his little sister, of course,"

"Miss Scarlet had met Spencer by accident. She was trying to find a way to pay herself through acting school. It was her lifelong dream, to be an entertainer. My brother, of course, couldn't deny someone's dream, and gave her the loan she needed to pay her way through school. She always did seem to thank my brother too much," I remember Scar mentioning that once. Spencer helped her through Acting School. Okay, but what about the others?

"You know Reverend Green? He isn't really a reverend. It's just a title he used to have. He sells firearms to people who need protection. The problem?...His license to sell was revoked. My cousin helped him get it back. He used to be a lawyer, but quit. Long story. But anyways, Green got his license back, and my brother got his eternal gratitude,"

"Mustard is a completely different story. A colonel for the army, he was fired and re-hired by my cousin as a bodyguard. That.. didn't roll over too well. The two fought constantly, and it ended with Spencer letting Mustard go. A week later, he was re-hired by the military. Turns out, my brother pulled some strings and got him re-admitted. I'm not sure Mustard knew about that, but it made Spencer happy to help out an old friend... if you could consider Mustard a friend," True that.

"I'm sure you know your own story, but since it's next I'll tell it anyways. You know that big discovery you made? The one you're famous for? The research was funded for by Spencer Boddy. That's right; **MY** Spencer! You came here, begging for a little extra cash to help with your research, and Spence gives you enough to drain the Red Sea!" Should I tell her that's not possible? Nah.

"The last one on my list is White. As you know, she was a famous child actress when she was a little girl, and she never let's anyone forget that she was once a superstar! Long story short, she ran out of money, and my cousin took pity on her and gave her a job here at the manor. Actually, this little get-together was her idea. Bring the people he's closest to together for a few evenings. Now, I wish he'd have never hired her!" Carlotta looks down, sad, "But I can't really blame her now, can I? Now, get out of my room, it's almost time for Lunch!" I realize, quite stunned, that she's right. Lunch's in a few hours. Without wasting a beat, I bolt out, ignoring Carlotta's giggling.

* * *

I sigh, as I finish writing my notes down. Carlotta gave me a bunch of useful information today. I still have no idea who the murderer is, but I have some ideas as to the characters' pasts. Speaking of characters', where's Scar? She promised me she'd be back here before lunch...

And suddenly, the door bursts open. There stands Scar, grinning like she'd won the lottery. Makes ya curious, considering we're trying to solve a murder here.

"Hey Freddie, you'll never believe what I'd found researching the house!"

Well whadaya know?

* * *

Sorry, Sam lovers, about the very little Scar in this chapter. But on the bright side, she's figured out something that might just help Freddie!

Sam and Freddie want you to review. Think of the tech-nerds/bullies who get no love!


	12. Chapter 12

iClue

Disclaimer: Hiya! In case you weren't aware of this, I don't own iCarly, or Clue. Well, what are you wasting your time reading the disclaimer for?

Author's Note: In short, the chapter title should be a dead give-away as to the contents of this particular chapter. I just enjoy writing the author's notes. Okay, CONTINUE!

* * *

Chapter 12: iDetermine the Weapon

"Scar, just tell me already!" I snap at the red clad counterpart of one of my best friends. She's discovered something that just might be vital to our mission, and she won't tell me anything about it! It's getting harder and harder not to strangle her as she leads me back to the observatory, bent on showing me whatever she found via the evidence. However, she enjoys seeing me suffer (Sadistic Demon), and keeps stopping and asking me questions, and she made us stop by the kitchen to get some ham (Which is completely out of our way). Now, it's just annoying, but we're almost there.

Scar smirks back at me, "Nope, not gonna. Just be patient, Fredweird," Scar had discovered, at some recent point, how much I miss Sam's name calling. It just doesn't seem right to go without it. So, she's been calling me Sam's nicknames. Instead of getting me angry, they calm me down in here. I still need to get out though.

Finally, after what seems like forever (It's probably only been a half hour, though), Scar and I arrive at the observatory. Scar enters first, picking up some books from a pile on a nearby desk, and skimming through them, looking for the right book. I simply waited in a nearby chair, with thinning patience. Finally, Scar unceremoniously drops a book in my lap.

I take a moment to glare at her before eying the book she had dropped into my lap. It doesn't have a title on the cover, instead it's a simple leather hard cover. I take it, and flip idly through the pages. Scar, who's now the impatient one, flips to the page for me. On the page is a picture of our late host, and Scar and Carlotta, who smile at the camera, waving in it's direction. I stare at her, confused.

"Okay, what does this have to do with the murder?" Scar frowns, pointing to a paragraph. I read through it once. Twice. And it still isn't absorbed by my brain:

_The committee of Art hereby awards Mr. Spencer Boddy the Picasso de Statuette Award, for his work in the creation of the statue dedicated to the victims of the Great War. Seen with his younger cousin, Carlotta Peacock, and family friend, Samantha Scarlet, the great artist himself has done work with some of the biggest stars in Hollywood. From William Boyd _(How do I know that name?)_, to little Miss Marissy herself, Boddy has made quite a name for himself here in Hollywood. The man is currently being paid for a project that will likely span onto many years..._

I stare at the page, my mind drawing a blank. So, Carlotta didn't tell me everything, eh? Or did she simply not know? This mystery's getting more and more complicated. Not to mention that my friends are still waiting for me on the other side of the consciousness barrier. But something is telling me to see this through to the end. Guess I have no choice, then. I'm stuck with Scar. Oh joy.

"Okay, so this means that Spencer knew Mrs. White before she became his maid, but what does that have to do with anything?" I address my partner in crime fighting. Scar sighs, explaining that any connections to the victim are important. I take her word for it.

"MAIL CALL!" I hear the maid call. Sighing, I step to the side. Scar looks at confused... until she looks down the hall, gives a squeal of surprise, and jumps to my side, barely avoiding the stampede of Mustard and Green as they run to get their mail.

Heading down myself now, I find Mrs. White distributing the mail accordingly. Carlotta gets mail from a few relatives, Green receives letters from some 'friends' of his, Mustard gets a few letters from his military buddies. White didn't have any mail, and neither did Scar. I, however, had gotten one letter. The letter I've been waiting for since... last night. Man, they work fast!

Without speaking to anyone, I grab Scar's arm and head for the theater. Nobody goes in there anymore, so the two of us use it as our headquarters. All of our important stuff, including my notes, is hidden somewhere in here. But, back to the important stuff.

"What? What's going on?" Scar asks as I finally release her arm. I sit down, ignoring her for the moment, and tear open the envelope, reading through it quickly:

_Dear Mr. Benson _(Yeah, I used my real name. Couldn't let them know it's a famed professor, huh?)

_We have, as you requested, done forensics on the sample of blood you had sent us. It may be interesting to know that the blood, amongst what's expected, contains a non-deadly amount of Rat Poisoning. We have determined that whomever the blood belonged to would survive, but must have a large amount of bed rest to assist in the recovery process. The person would be vulnerable and subsceptible in this state, and must be tended to at all times. Lest something bad happen._

_Sincerely,_

_The Forensics Department of the Police Academy of Seattle, WA_

I read through the note again and again. Then, turning to my partner, I smile. She stares at me, confused, before proceeding to ask me what the chiz is going on.

"My dear Samantha," I say, grinning at her, "I believe I know what did Spencer in. I figured out the murder weapon,"

It was really all so simple.

Mr. Spencer Boddy was weakened by the Rat Poison, cleverly sneaked into his food at dinner the other day. Since his strength was weakened, the murderer used a trophy to hit his head, causing his death. Then, he was stabbed by the already rusted knife to confuse whoever would try to solve the mystery. It was ingenious.

Too bad it didn't work right.

Scar stares, mouth gaping slightly, as I explain this to her. Unable to believe it was that simple, she then asks me if that helps us.

"Not really, I mean... Every one of us had come into contact with Spencer at one point last night (I think), and everyone has access to the kitchen. It's still unknown who the murderer could be," Scar sighs.

"So, you have no idea?"

I contradict her immediately, "I do have one idea, but it's just a lead. I'm going to inspect the scene of the crime again, don't try to stop me," And I exit the theater, heading once again towards the main hall.

* * *

Okay... that wasn't anything like I'd imagined it would be. But that's writing for ya.

R&R, please!


	13. Chapter 13

iClue

Disclaimer: I can't think of any reason why you would assume I own iCarly or Clue. Cause I don't. I'm only fifteen.

Author's Notes: Huh, I notice how these chapters seem to be deprived of all humor. I mean, I don't really think solving a murder is funny, but it's iCarly. Maybe it's because Freddie's always described as, um, not funny, but I still think there should be a little more humor and randomness in this. That would explain why this chapter might be different from the others.

* * *

Chapter: iRealize the Body was...

Taking my time, I enter the Front Hallway, where Spencer Boddy was murdered. The room, because of all of our past investigations, is very familiar. It still doesn't hurt to recheck all the details, does it? I take yet another look around the already well-searched room.

Scar, apparently, is determined to get me to spill my guts about my suspicion, because she obviously doesn't have a clue who it is. I still won't tell her, mostly because it's just a suspicion, and there's absolutely no evidence against this person, but a little bit because I wanna mess with Scar's head. Wait, she's part of my mind, can she think for herself? Well, I certainly don't have any control over her.

"For the last time, Scar, no. You have to wait until I have more evidence... I'm not even sure about this person," Scar pouts at me, obviously upset. Heh, good. That's what I wanted.

The door bursts open, and we are surprised by the sudden appearance of Mrs. White and Carlotta. The two of them are grinning too widely for my taste. Scar, obviously not liking their presence, asks what the want. They exchange a knowing glance, and turn to her, beaming. The two females suddenly burst out:

"MAKE-OVERS!" And before she can object, poor Scar is whisked away by the maid and the cousin of the deceased. I currently pity her, but really can't do anything about it. Though not nearly as much as Sam, Carly can be pretty scary when she's mad. And I have a feeling Carlotta is just like that. Well, of course she is, she's my mental version of Carly. And I think I know both of those girls pretty well. Sighing, I look downwards. I'm on my own. For now, at least.

Unless they brainwash Scar...

Shivering at that, I take a moment to look around the room, as I'd already done a million times. But this was different. The last million times, I was looking for evidence of a weapon. Now, I'm just looking for clues in general. I crouch where the body was before we took it upstairs. Or at least, I think this is where it was. Another sigh escapes my lips as I think of Sam. Not Scar (Though I do feel sorry for her), but Sam. How is she doing? What's she doing? Has Nevel hurt her? If he has, I'll die just so I can come back to Earth to haunt the snot-nosed brat. For the rest of his life. Forever.

Pleased with my evil thinking, I take a closer look at the ground. The carpet's damaged, but that's not really surprising, considering all that's happened in this room. The wooden floor is stained with blood. I look closer at it, trying to ignore the instinct to retch.

Wait a moment...

I notice something odd about the blood on the floorboards. Forcing myself not to hurl, I lower down to floor level so I can examine it more thoroughly. There's the strange thing. The blood stretches out in a thick line. Almost like...

Almost like...

I gasp at the sudden realization. It hit me full force, like a train, only not as painful. But before I could fully absorb this fact, a voice calls to me, knocking me out of my stupor.

"Hey, Plum, can you leave? I gotta do something in here," I turn to Green in complete confusion.

"What?"

"Oh," He sighs, "I lost a bet with Mustard. Now, I gotta lick the floor. I don't want anyone to witness my humiliation," My eyes widen, and I'm about to warn him when he simply drops to the floor and licks it.

"Green," I begin cautiously, "This is the room where Spencer was murdered. And he was lying on the floor," Green's eyes widen in surprise, and he takes off at high speeds. I sigh as I hear retching from down the hall.

Mustard sure is sadistic...

* * *

"The body was WHAT?" Scar practically screams at me as I tell her what happened. I wince and rub my ear, which is still ringing with her voice. I glare at her.

"Was nearly making me deaf really necessary?" I snap at her. She shrugs, but sends me an apologetic glance. I take it, because she never apologizes, and didn't say anything. Man, I did a good job. She looks exactly like Sam. Every detail...

"Still!" She continues, ignoring my little space out, "The body was **MOVED**! Fredward, this is serious chiz!" I notice that the more upset she is, the more like Sam she is, "We can't just ignore this, it may be a key part in finding the murderer!" I nod, recalling something similar in a book I read once. Cluedo? I dunno.

Scar takes the time to look at me, and I must not have looked like I was paying attention, because she begins snapping at me, "**FREDDIE**! Are you paying attention?" I turn to her and nod, rubbing my ear again. Just as the ringing had died down, she yells at me and it came back. Ugh, mental Sam or not, this chick needs to respect personal matters, like, oh, I dunno, **HEARING**!

"Scar, it makes perfect sense," I point out, "And if you don't believe me, take a look at the Front Hall. You'll find the bloody skid marks, like I did," Scar is **SO** not happy about it, but grumbles and accepts it.

"Well, this stinks," She comments, "Just as we find out one part of the mystery, a new part gets thrown in our faces!" She sighs, plopping down into her chair. I turn to her, one eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean WE? I did all the work!" She ignores my exclamation, brushing it off as 'details', then offers me a piece of ham. Something Sam would **NEVER** do. I stare at her for a moment, then take it. Who knows when Sam, even if she is Scar, will do something like this again?

All of a sudden, the door opens, and Mrs. White walks in, looking slightly disturbed.

"Do either of you know anything about the vomit littering the left wing hallway?" She inquires. Scar and I give each other a quick glance, then turn to the older women.

"No," We both say at the same time, then scurry out of the theater. Some things were better left unsaid... including the truth of Green's stomach contents sprawled on the floor of the hallway.

* * *

Well, that was entertaining, wasn't it? I attempted to add a little classic iCarly humor, but I'm pretty sure I failed miserably. Poor Green. I feel sorry for him.

Anyway, review yesterday, today, and next year! Confused? So am I!


	14. Chapter 14

iClue

Disclaimer: Processing... Opposite of Fire is not the owner of... either iCarly or clue... processing... this fanfiction is for entertainment purposes only... beep... static...

Author's Note: SOME people aren't reading the chapter titles, are they? Otherwise, I wouldn't need to tell you that in this chapter Freddie gets poisoned by the murderer. But who is the murderer? HAHA! I know and you don't!

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Chapter 14: iAm Poisoned

"Dinner time!"

I sigh, stepping back. Scar takes the hint and steps back to, and we watch as the animals known as Mustard and Green make a rush towards the Dining Room. Ugh, I can understand Green being hungry, but why Mustard? Never mind that, though, we'll finish dinner quickly and continue on with the investigation. We still have to find out where the murder had originally taken place. And we agreed to keep this little discovery to ourselves right now. As mentioned in the past, we have no idea who to trust. Scar trusts me because this is my mind, and I trust her cause she looks like Sam. Stupid reason, but Sam isn't guilty. And neither is Scar.

But anyways, dinner.

Mrs. White made something that reminded me of that one time Mom made cooked lamb. She read somewhere that it was supposed to be healthy. It only made me throw up, bleh. But this stuff is a lot tastier, or at least I can scarf this down without upchucking. Speaking of that, I'd better not anymore; It'll ruin my appetite!

We pass around dishes of various foods as well. Mashed potatoes, peas, bread rolls, and a little tray full of appetizer meats, which was probably put out for Scar. Surely enough, she hogs the entire tray to herself, only letting me sneak some. Curious.

We take our time consuming this grand meal. And why not? It's delicious! I have to hand it to her, Mrs. White is a good cook! The food is one of the few things I enjoy in this whacked-up manor! The others? Well, I'm sure you can guess for yourself what I'd enjoy.

"Boys?" Carlotta asks. We turn her way, "Do you think you can help me move some stuff from Spencer's room to the downstairs? His statues should be put on display," The others haven't seen the sculptures, but I have. And she's right; they should be put on display. For everyone to see!

"I'll help," I gladly volunteer, happy to help one of the few people who don't hate me for no real reason. The other males, not wanting to look like wimps, volunteer as well, and Scar insists on coming along to, 'See us make fools of ourselves, then beg for help', but I think she just wants to make sure the enemy (Whoever the enemy is) doesn't hurt me with the heavy statues. Aw, she's sweet without showing it. Silly girl.

"One condition to my working," Green says, and I groan, because he's a man of business and probably wants money, "I want a kiss from the lovely lady Peacock,"

And I couldn't stop laughing as Scar hit the boy hard, resulting in him falling to the floor and hitting his head hard.

* * *

Green decided to help us anyway, despite possible concussion. Scar and I chuckle at that, and the rest of them look at us oddly, but ignore it. I, myself, ignore a slight ringing in my ears. It's leftover Scar scream, and I hate it, but can put up with it until we remove the sculptures.

I laugh again as the others gawk at the sculptures. Since I'd seen them already, they weren't a shock at all. I laugh myself into a fit, and have to sit on the bed. Ugh, all that laughter left me slightly light-headed. Scar doesn't seem to notice. She, like the others, is too busy staring in awe at Spencer Boddy's works of art. Once that's over with, we begin to move the statues down the stairs.

Scar and Carlotta follow behind us, and I can spy the maid watching from downstairs. Her eyes are focused on us, though she's shining a trophy on a shelf. Snickering, I look towards the other males. They seem to be struggling. Heh, guess the simple sculpture is too heavy for the little worms.

"Honestly, why did he make statues so big?" Complains Mustard, despite the fact that he could quit moving the statue any time he wants to. The guy just doesn't want to look like a wimp in front of two other males and three females. No telling what kind of mockery he'd be on the receiving end of.

As if trying to mock me, the sculpture suddenly becomes heavier. Like, a lot heavier. I grunt slightly, my limbs screaming out at me in protest, crying to put down the heavy load. I ignore the protest, and my throat's new found desire to groan in agony. It's not so bad, but I can't imagine why I'm feeling like this.

Looking back towards Scar, I find her face slightly blurred. My mind tries to tell me something bad's gonna happen, but much like my friend's voice, it's lost amongst my swimming thoughts. I have trouble keeping my focus, and lose my grip on the sculpture.

"Hey, watch it!" Mustard growls, as he attempts to pick up my slack. Muttering an apology, I once again pick up my side, this time finding it even harder to hold. Like something's infested my muscles, and tries to make them mutinous. I try to resist, but it becomes even stronger, and my body grows even weaker.

"Hey, Fredweird," Someone calls to me. I look up, seeing the faces around me are blurred, barely visible. Except for Scar. She looks scared, but her expression is fading into a new one I can't quite make out yet.

I hear voices all around me, and try to call my attention to them. But my ears refuse to serve their purpose. My whole body is on mutiny, I feel like I'm not in control of anything. Not even my mouth works correctly. I try to call out to the others, tell them I'm okay, but they're fading too fast. I can't keep my attention on them... who are 'them' again?

"Freddie!"

I finally give in to my traitorous body's demands, falling backwards. Not even caring that I'm on a stairwell, or that one misstep by my fellow housemates could send a large sculpture onto my head. I know, but I don't care. I **CAN'T** care, this is supposed to happen.

And once again, everything fades to black.

* * *

Freddie got poisoned! He... just doesn't realize it yet. Poor Fredward... Can you guess what happens next? C'mon, guess!

...And tell me your guesses in review form!


	15. Chapter 15

iClue

Disclaimer: Does anyone on this site own either clue or iCarly? No? Okay, good, I'm not the only one.

Author's Notes: In the last chapter... Poor Freddie was poisoned! Gasp! Poor Fredweird! But good news, real Sam's back! And then she disappears again! Well, you'd know what happens if you'd have read _iBecome a Private Eye_, now wouldn't cha? See ya L8R!

* * *

Chapter 15: iCan tell Sam

...Ugh...deja vu...

What's going on?

I let out a groan, trying in vain to open my eyes. It's an effort I have to force myself to make. I then hear a gasp and force my eyes open, though the process is slower than I wanted it to be. I open my eyes enough to see, and see the face of Scar, bending over me with an excited, as well, as anxious, face. But why would she be so excited? I imagine she'd be looking worried...

Then I notice her ensemble.

She's wearing a gray, long-sleeved shirt that snugs up on her arms. A pair of denim jeans. Her hair dangles like it always has, but she's wearing a gray headband to keep it at bay. I know now, this isn't Scar. It's Sam. The real Sam. My Sam. I've gotta get her attention, let her know I'm aware.

With a weak voice, I call out, "Ugh...Sam," The amount of energy I have is less than I first assumed, but I force my eyes all the way open. My effort is rewarded with Sam's incredulous look, her eyes widening in shock, her jaw dropping. She doesn't believe this is real. I can't blame her; I barely believe this is real. Her eyes glaze over with unsheathed tears, her face breaking out into a grin as wide as the Mississippi river. I could be mistaken, but I believe she's happy to see me.

"S'okay, Freddork, I'm here; Sam's here," She gently coos me, whispering these sweet nothings in my ears. Trying to keep me awake, I assume. I pray it works; I don't wanna fall asleep again. Not so soon after waking up. Besides, Sam's been missing me as much as I've missed her. I gotta let her know I'm here for her. In every way I can.

But, despite my mental protest, my body becomes mutinous, begging for sleep. NO! I will not go to sleep. I need to at least tell Sam the address.

"Evil...Plan," I force out. My breath tries to choke me, but I manage to get out the rest, "At...Live..." I simply can't continue anymore; My body convulses with coughs that force me to stop speaking. But she's gotta know the password still! Keep calm, Fredward, keep cool. Just don't exert yourself too much and... my eyelids are heavy...

"Freddie," Sam calls me out of my exhaustion, pulling me back into reality. I listen as she talks, "Whatever you do, don't close your eyes. Look at me, Benson!" I force myself to look up. Her eyes, a light, vivid blue, are glazed over with worry. I smile as best I can, for her sake, then feel tired again...

NO! I still gotta tell her the password! "Your...Birthday..." I choke out, praying she'll know this is important. She stares at me in confusion, though her eyes still show worry.

"Sam..." I call, to distract her from puzzling over it too much; She might burn herself out. She looks just as tired as I feel... "I'm tired..." Was all I could force out of my throat, and my eyes close. Hopefully sleep will come without fight. I see Sam's worried face underneath my eyelids, and open them again. Hey, if all I'm gonna see is Sam, might as well get the real thing, right?

"NO!" She cries out, her worry and panic obviously getting to her, "Come on, Fredapuss, you can't just give up! Please, Freddie, don't!" I gaze at her, the worry is starting to overwhelm her. So, I do the only thing I can do to keep her calm and focused. Forcing myself to sit up, I kiss her...

...On the cheek.

She stares at me in total awe, her eyes showing the briefest flicker of surprise. I smile gently at her, then lean back. Time for sleep...

Sam's face is the last thing I see before consciousness leaves me once again.

* * *

...Again, with the dizziness, ugh at this rate, might as well be drugged daily. Speaking of drugs, am I still in the hospital? It doesn't smell like a hospital. It smells like...

_Scar's Room..._

Shoot. I'm back in the manor. What exactly is going on, cause I was at the bottom of a stairwell last I remember... or did I get that memory wrong? At any rate, my thoughts are interrupted by someone calling out to me. The voice that is so familiar...

Scar.

I open my eyes, finding the simple task less strenuous than in reality here. My partner is sitting above me, her whole self wreaking of concern. Aw, and it's for me. How sweet of the pseudo Puckett. I take a moment to recover my strength, then inquire.

"Scar? What's happening?" She shushes me, and begins to explain. I'd been poisoned. Must have happened at dinner. The others didn't show any traces of whatever was in my food, therefore I've been targeted. Everyone claims to have no idea how this happened. But I think I do. I was meant to see Sam. My mind allowed me consciousness for a long enough moment to share one of the few sweet moments we have had.

And now I'm back to solving a murder mystery with Scar by my side. Calmly, I ask if she's had any leads while I was out.

"No, I've been watching over you, genius," I assumed so. Letting out a sigh, I tell her to get some sleep in my room, since this is her room. She reluctantly obliges, not wanting to leave me alone.

Now that I've seen enough to compare the two though, I realize they're not as similar as they'd first seemed. There are some differences. Maybe my mind is trying to tell me something about Sam...

Ah, I'll think about it later. Now, I'm gonna get the first non-forced rest I've gotten since this morning.

* * *

And end scene fifteen. Boo-ya! Anyway, the next chapter Freddie will be recovered, and he and Scar will be able to continue on!

Oh, and all reviewers get a chance to hit Howard with one (or more) of three darts. Click away.


	16. Chapter 16

iClue

Disclaimer: Nobody knows my secret... that I do NOT OWN iCARLY OR CLUE! MUAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh... never mind.

Author's Notes: Today has been excellent! School is ending soon, our final testing is on the way, and I struck new inspiration for this story! SKLEE! Also, not that it's of any relevance, but today we find out two-thirds of what is happening. Yup, a whole TWO-THIRDS! That's a lot! Okay, you can read now.

* * *

Chapter 16: iJust barely Survive

I remember someone telling me, 'If you put your hand on the fire, you're gonna get burned'. It's something I've always taken to heart, judging things from a distance. Thinking before I act. Making sure I won't get hurt (Or won't get hurt for a while), then doing whatever it is I was gonna do. This time, however, this is the only possibility, the only way to continue. I might get hurt, but I've withstood a beating from a psychotic stalker, poison, and a fall down a stairwell. This time, I can survive as well. All I need to do is remember my purpose and not get frightened. I can do this. I can do this.

Taking a deep breath, I enter the domain where the beast lay, cautious as not to disturb it. With all the stealth of a chameleon, I approach the monster, still sound asleep. The creature looks so peaceful when it's asleep... soak it in now, Benson, cause once this is done, the monster will get up and tear you to bits. Before I can loss my courage, I lean down, and shake the beast awake...

...Which fails horribly, so I go onto my next trick: Taking a bucket of water and dropping it on it's head. So I grab the bucket I had dragged here for this purpose, and pour it onto my intended prey's skull, the liquid rushing down off of it and onto the bed sheets and floor quickly.

"AAHH! What the chiz?" Scar shouts loudly as she falls to the floor, soaked and muttering curses under her breath. I couldn't hear them; I was too busy laughing at her. All of a sudden, my laughter is interrupted by a low growl, and before I have time to run, Scar has me pinned to the ground, trying to tear my arms away; They are the only things protecting my head/face/chest area. Despite the fact that she could easily kill me, I laugh, cause she won't. It simply isn't how we work; The worst she'll do to me is break my bones.

A cough, faked for the purpose of getting our attention, interrupts our banter. We look up and find Carlotta, grinning in amusement, and Mrs. White, obviously annoyed, peering down at us from the doorway.

"Well," Carlotta says, poorly suppressing giggles, "We came to check your laundry, but it seems you two are good," The said giggling then turns into full-on laughter, obviously enjoying our embarrassment.

Mrs. White, however, is not so amused, "I'm not cleaning up after you two anymore," And exit White.

* * *

We enter the room of the patio after Breakfast. After what happened last night, everyone seemed to want to make their own Breakfast. Which was fine with White, she mentioned something about less work and proceeded to grab a muffin from the cupboard, leaving us to cook. I made a cheese and ham omelet for Scar and myself. I can't trust anyone but her, and I intend to let her know it. She seemed pleased with the meal, and after consuming it, we leave for the only room that hasn't been searched thoroughly: The Patio.

The room itself is quite beautiful. A ficus on the side, as well as a few other plants, give the place a lively look. It's floor is made of a wood that could possibly be oak. There is a wooden table off to the right side, with four chairs, candlelit with a bowl of decorative fruit in the middle. I notice that one of the fruits has a bite taken out of it...

Anyways, to the left of the rather large patio are two lounge chairs, designed for relaxation. A wooden pedestal stood upward between them. On one of the lounge chairs, as well as one of the wooden chairs, are towels, used, probably left here by Mrs. White. She's lazier than my mom, I'll give her that.

"Search the room," Orders Scar, knocking me out of my thoughts. I give her a slight nod, letting her know that I'm aware of what she said. She's, in all aspects and purposes, Sam; She hates being ignored and loves being in charge. The simple fact that I was gonna do that anyways should be ignored at current times. Best let her think she's in control, even for a moment.

The room is divided in half; Scar on the right and myself on the left. I begin with the plants; a likely place for someone to hide something otherwise... undesirable. Scar has the same idea on her side. Our searches seem to echo each others, our movements mirroring the others with such precision, anyone else would have sworn it was rehearsed. It might have been for all I know; This is my mind, everything in here was created by... me. Wow, humble much, Benson?

Okay, why do I keep insulting myself?

I reach the lounge chairs and continue searching there. Man, they look comfortable. But I can't let myself rest; I haven't even been up a couple hours yet! Scar had reached the table the same time (Give or take a few moments), but unlike me, stopped searching in favor of relaxing. To be truthful, it doesn't look so bad. So, I sit down on the lounge chair, just for a moment.

I grab the towel to move to the other chair when something catches my eye. Something... not normal.

Something crimson.

_Blood_. The substance is so familiar yet foreign at the same time. Why would anyone leave bloody towels in here? When was the last time anyone was even in here? I think it was Green... I dunno. But this isn't something I can simply ignore. I can ignore messy beds or the smart remarks of a certain blond, but this is the evidence we needed. The evidence we've been looking for.

"Freddie?" Scar addresses me, and her eyes widen at the sight of the bloody cloth clutched in my hands, "What is _**that**_?"

I give her a look, "It's a bloody towel, Scar, duh," I look back at it, "It's also the evidence we've been searching for,"

Eyes widen on the face of the blond, "You mean...?"

I nod, confirming the obvious, "This is where Spencer Boddy was murdered,"

* * *

GASP!

Okay, to those who didn't get the title, it was kinda a joke on the first part of the chapter, when Scar and Freddie are having that little play fight. Mrs. White is a downer.

Yeah, you know the how and the where, but the who is still on the loose. I doubt you can figure it out...

If you can, review. If you cannot, review anyways. ;)


	17. Chapter 17

iClue

Disclaimer: I don't think I own iCarly or Clue...

Author's Notes: More stuff, though I'm not really good with laying clues, am I? We overhear some incriminating stuff. Or do we? That's your decision to make. Also, Friday's are AWESOME! Hurray for Friday!

* * *

Chapter 17: iOverhear Some Things

The morning investigation went well enough. We figured out where my friend and mental image, Spencer Boddy, was murdered. We already knew how. All we need now is the who, and we'd better figure it out soon. Scar is getting impatient; About ready to butcher the suspects. I already caught her glaring at Mustard earlier. Well, let her have her opinions; I have my own.

So, we discuss our next idea.

"I say we beat all of them until someone gives out and confesses," Scar offers her opinion without much seriousness or clarity. At this point, it's not a bad offer, but I still need to learn how to get out of here... and the murderer might be my key. So, I can't risk killing the murderer just yet... but I need to know how to get home. Preferably soon. I voice the fact that that was a bad idea (Not mentioning I'm half tempted to go through with it), and we agree to split up and investigate the other residence. Did I mention I hate splitting up?

So, that's how I got here, sitting outside the living room, waiting for Green to leave so I can question him some more. Scar, much to her annoyance, was elected by myself to spy on Mrs. White. How I got her to agree to that, I still don't know, but I'll betcha she'll find something. Anyone could if they searched hard enough. Then again, Sam's counterpart. Enough said.

The others we will investigate another date. As for now, these two are our top suspects for separate reasons. Green has a gun, while Mrs. White is in charge of the food, while I was poisoned. Suspicious? I think so.

But she's someone elses responsibility. My duty is Green.

I lift my head, hearing footsteps. Someone's coming. Thinking quickly, I duck behind the nearby wall. I risk a peak, and see Mustard enter the Living Room. Okay, now THAT'S what I call suspicious. If Scar was here, she'd not hesitate to follow the temperamental Mustard into the Living Room. Thinking like Scar, I have to follow them into the Living Room also. Only one problem: How can I sneak in there? I look, and see Mustard had left the door wide open. Someone trying to follow them would have no problem doing so unseen. Wow.

So, I utilize my stealth to enter the living room. Mustard don't even notice as I carefully follow him to the couch, where Green is sitting, reading a book entitled, "The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood,". He looks up at Mustard, and his face contorts slightly in anger. I immediately fall to the floor to prevent myself from being seen.

"There you are!" He shouts, exasperated, "I have a bone to pick with you!" Bone? Eh, can't blame him, this is my mind.

Mustard is certainly confused, "Huh? What did I do, Green?" At the least, he's not getting why Green is mad. Neither do I, to tell the truth. Green's angry face turns to one of rage.

"I know you took it, Mustard! Guns just don't up and disappear!" **SCAR**! I should've known she wouldn't have returned Green's gun! Remind me to shout at her about that later. Meanwhile, back to the argument.

"WHAT? I didn't steal your stupid gun, Green! I never touched it!" He cries out honestly. Huh, a Howard look-alike being honest. And cue the apocalypse.

...Huh, no universal destruction. Okay, back to the present situation.

"Don't lie to me, Mustard. You're the only one who'd seen the gun before it disappeared. The only other people who know about the gun found only the gun case! It **HAD** to be you!" I crawl closer to the couch, where the two are sitting, and hide beneath it. Better quality hearing that way.

"Ya know what, Green?" Mustard snaps at him, "I don't wanna hear it. I'm outta here," He exits, and Green follows, yelling after him to stop with the lies. And they both fail to notice me, poorly hidden under the couch.

Wow.

* * *

I burst into Scar's bedroom to find her sitting lazily on the bed, helping herself to chocolates no doubt stolen from the kitchen.

"Hey," She calls coolly, as though she has nothing to hide. I scowl at her, showing my disapproval, which is sensed immediately, because she frowns.

"Where is it Scar?" I ask. She raises one eyebrow, not knowing what the chiz I'm talking about. But she can be a convincing actress when she wants to be, so I don't fall for it.

"What?" She asks, "Where's what?"

I lose my temper and shout at her, "The gun, Scar, the gun!" Remembering something else, I add, "And don't tell me you returned it cause I know it's not there!"

"Fredward, I really did-" I interrupt her.

"Don't lie Scar, just tell me!"

She frowns deeply, hurt shining in her bright blue eyes, a sign that she **WAS** telling the truth. Oops, "Freddie, I did return the gun. If it's missing, someone else took it," Her hurt then turns to anger, "I thought you trusted me!" Before I can respond, she leaves, and I feel the guilt pounding at me immediately. What on Earth was I thinking?

Then, she comes back in, "This is my room, YOU leave!" And before I can object, she pushes me out, leaving me standing out in the hallway.

I stand outside her doorway, both looking and feeling like an idiot. Man, I'm stupid.

* * *

Scar and Freddie have their first fall out. Don't fret my friends, you already know how this ends if you've read _**iBecome a Private Eye**_.

Review if you support the friendship/Romance of SEDDIE!


	18. Chapter 18

iClue

Disclaimer: I can't possibly own iCarly or Clue. I can barely afford to buy to new hard drive for my computer!

Author's Notes: Yeah... not such a happy cliffhanger on the other chapter. But, rest assured, they DO make up. But if Scar doesn't have Green's gun... then who does? Please note that I wrote this chapter while listening to a pretty sappy song... so don't expect funny. Expect enough fluff and sappiness to choke you.

* * *

Chapter 18: iTrust You, Scar

She irks me.

The first thing she officially said to me was, and I quote, "I don't like you,". And it only gets better from there, right? WRONG! She calls me names, questions my leadership, yells at me, tells me she only works with me cause I'm her only option, and loathes me because this is my mind. Worse of all, though, is that she makes me feel guilty for not trusting her. Which isn't fair, it's not like I don't have reason to! Ugh, why me?

And more importantly, why am I still standing outside her door? She kicked me out! So why am I still here? I should go back to my room and try to figure out how to wake up from this extended nightmare. But _No_, I have to sit out here and wait for Scar to open the stupid door so I can apologize! Ugh, why haven't I left yet?

A sudden image of Scar goes through my head. Those sad eyes, full of hurt and anger. Oh, yeah, that's why. Because if I don't, I'll probably hate myself for the next... millennium. Plus, she kinda didn't deserve it. She's only human (Or mental image, if you prefer that).

Sighing, I knock on the door. A familiar voice, weakened by crying (Which only adds to my guilt), yells as best as it can for me to go away. I inform her that it's me.

"..." She doesn't respond, then I hear the door unlock. Scar opens the door, trying in vain to hide her tear-stricken face and her red eyes. A sudden pain pierces my heart like a knife, as I try desperately to call up an image to take away the fact that, even emotionally upset, she's still beautiful.

Nothing.

"What do YOU want?" She half-asks, half-snaps at me. I frown sadly, trying to give her the message of regret and apology before I said the words. Maybe that way she'll forgive me... more easily.

"I want to apologize,"

She frowns, not impressed, "Apologize for what, Fredward Plum?" I cringe at the name Plum, but continue on.

"Apologize for doubting you... and accusing you of stealing the gun..." I glance hopefully at her, hoping she'll accept my lame apology. She glares at me, eyes hard as stone and cold as ice. If she lost any more emotion, she could be elected new undertaker. I can't help but feel sorry for her. She has no family now... or at least, from what she's implied.

"And why should I accept your apology?" Man, she's pushy, isn't she?

"Well," I begin lamely, feeling completely pathetic, "You said so yourself; you need me," Bad answer, Frednub. She glares crossly at me, "Uh, that didn't come out right. What I meant was, we need each other. You can't solve this mystery without me, and there's no way I can stay sane without you. I need you to keep myself from losing my mind. You're my anchor," She rolls her eyes.

"Right, Fredwardo, cause all girls love being compared to big, heavy pieces of metal," Scar snaps.

I internally gulp; On the outside though, I keep my apologetic appearance, "Hear me out, kay?" She crosses her arms, but nods, "You're Sam; you're what I see her as. And as far as I can tell, you're just like her in every way. So, if I got put in a coma attempting to prove Sam innocent, wouldn't it make sense to trust her in my mind? You're everything she is to me, and I wouldn't be sane without you, because I need her by my side. I trust you Scar, because you're everything my Sam is," Shoot, did I just say _**my**_ Sam? Now I'm gonna get an ear-full from Scar.

"Okay, apology accepted," _**HUH?**_

Scar smirks from the doorway, explaining, "You, my friend, have done exactly what I wanted you to do; though in a more indirect way than I assumed, you still did it," Did what? She just exists to confuse me, doesn't she?

"What did you want?" I ask, because I have no idea what she wants from me.

Another smirk crosses the face of Scar as she shakes her head, "Not important. Call it a mental thing. Man, you're messed up if _I_ am the sane thing in your mind!" Sadly, she's got a point.

So, after that, er, strange conversation, she steps outside her room. Looking to me, she inquires, "You wanna get something to eat, Freddork?"

So, Scar and I head down to the Theater. Of course, that's where we always go. So, really no surprise there. Scar has no idea what to do next, so we're reading through the books down here to get some ideas. Well, I'm reading; Scar is randomly flipping through the pages of books, looking for something to qualm her boredom.

All of a sudden, she jerks up, eyes wide in disbelief of, well, whatever it is she's reading. A 'no' escapes her lips as she processes whatever information is in front of her face. And I, as usual, have no idea on what's going on.

"Scar? What is that, what's up?"

She gives me a wide-eyed stare, "You'll never believe it..."

"What? WHAT?" I cry out, as impatient as the real Sam. Hey, I've been trapped in my own mind, I think I have a right to go insane.

"You'll never believe this, but... TOMATOES ARE FRUIT!" She cries out. If this were an anime, I'd be sweat dropping right now.

"Yes Scar, tomatoes are fruit. Now read about some other vegetable," I smirk at the confused expression on poor Scar's face.

Some things never change.

* * *

Yes, no real clues here, but I'll make up for that... IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! Meanwhile, you can relish the fact that tomatoes are a fruit, not a vegetable.

Review if you still think tomatoes are vegetables!


	19. Chapter 19

iClue

Disclaimer: Uh, duh, don't own Clue. And if you think I own iCarly, then you do not grasp the purpose of 'fanfiction'. Thank you for reading, by the way. Oops, off topic.

Author's Notes: ...Yeah, not much happened last chapter, not really... just Scar and Freddie making up. Nothing special, unless you enjoy Seddie fluff. Really, you could skip it if you wanted to... I wouldn't, but I'm a Seddie fan! Okay, I've taken up enough of your precious free time. Enjoy the next chapter of iClue.

* * *

Chapter 19: iCatch a Glimpse

Okay, so me and Scar are friends again. Yay. There are still two major, and I mean MAJOR problems we still have to deal with. One: I'm still trapped in my mind, with Sam fighting some sort of criminal on the other side of the realm of consciousness. I'm trying not to think about her fighting off real criminals. Two: The only person who's given us virtually nothing is now going to be thoroughly investigated. Unfortunately...

That person is Colonel Howard Mustard.

The bitter crab is the twin of my cruel teacher. And the only one we've gotten zip from. Scar went to interview (interrogate) him once, but nothing came out of that. Scar just knocked him out with a punch to the face. Which reminds me...

"Did I say I'm REALLY sorry?"

If looks could kills, I'd be dead three times over by now, "YES, Fredward, numerous (And by numerous I mean twenty-three) times already. I get it, you're sorry!" Well, someone's in a rotten mood, aren't they?

"Just making sure..." I mumble below my breath. I hear Scar inhale deeply, trying not to lose her temper, and continuing to walk towards where Green said Mustard is...

The Lounge.

Entering the large room, we spot Mustard almost immediately. To be truthful, it's hard to miss a man dressed in a yellow uniform in an all-green room. He's on the couch... napping. We stare blankly at him, before Scar shouts, rather loudly, "THERE'S A HOBO ON THE COUCH!" She's so loud, I have to cover my ears to prevent damage (Not like it would matter in my mind). The three other guests run into the room, Mrs. White holding a broom, Carlotta holding a bar of soap (Hobos are afraid of soap, ya know), and Green with... a record?

Once we explain what we're doing, everyone leaves. I stop Green, curious as to one thing...

"Why did you grab a record?"

"Oh, that," He looks down at it, "It was the first thing I grabbed, and records actually hurt, ya know," He grins stupidly, letting me know he's gonna do something... stupid, "Allow me to demonstrate," Told ya.

"Wait-" Before I could stop him, he smashes it on his head, breaking it. I move to do... something, but he falls forward, onto the ground in front of him. Scar snorts loudly, but a quick glare from me tells her to help me move him to the other couch. We do so, careful not to injure him (Well, I am. Can't speak for Scar, though).

And throughout the whole thing, Mustard fails to wake up.

* * *

_Well, that was a waste of time_, I think as I randomly travel through the halls to clear my head. Scar went up to her room to do the same thing, annoyed that not one, but _**two**_ of our suspects are out and currently unavailable. I can't say I'm not, but she had to go back to prevent violent outbreaks, at Mrs. White's insistence. Well, her exact words were, "If you go on a rampage, I'm not fixing or cleaning whatever you break!" So, for the benefit of all of us, Scar went to brood in her room. Isn't she so thoughtful? And believe it or not, I don't intent any sarcasm.

The sound of footsteps assault my ears, making me paranoid and cautious. I listen closely, determine where they're coming from, and move slowly; both to avoid being heard, and to make sure I can still hear the movements of the culprit. Breaking into a sprint would be a bad choice, though I have a feeling that's what Scar would do. Strange, these instincts. Ah, well, back to fighting crime.

I creep carefully to the source of the footsteps, and peak around the corner, where I see a glimpse of a dress as it rounds the corner. Though I can't tell it's direct color (Which would tell me who was wearing it; Everyone here only wears one color), I can tell it isn't red, which rules out Scar. It's either White or Carlotta.

Sneaking down is really the only option (Well, for me it is), but I never get my chance to see the culprit, as I trip just before I round the corner. Ah, of all the bad luck! The person heard me, and goes running off. By the time I am back on my feet, they could be clear across the manor. But why not face me? Why just run? I step on something on the ground, look down, and immediately wish I hadn't.

I feel a sick sense of dread when I look down and see the taunting object, covered in powder and left on the floor. I shake while I pick it up. Whoever that was, it was the culprit. How do I know?

Who else but the culprit would have powder and shots for a missing gun?

* * *

Scar stares at the gun rounds now held in her hands with no visible expression. For some reason, I wanted a more violent reaction. Anything but the silence we're experiencing now, filled with tension and some unknown feeling that gives me paranoia.

"Fredward," She says in a voice that can't be hers. It's way too calm, too void of emotion to be Sam... or Scar, in this case. I give her a nod to show I'm listening, "I think... we should inform everyone to lock their doors tonight," A worried look adorns her normally carefree face, letting me know whatever conclusion she came to is bad.

"Why? What do you think is gonna happen?" I can take a reasonable guess, but there is no way I can say it aloud, confirm both of our fears.

Scar looks up, and I can see it in her eyes before she says it, "The murderer is gonna strike again," I gulp.

One of the girls... Carlotta Peacock, or Marissa 'Little Miss Marissy' White is a murderer, the violent killer of Mr. Spencer Boddy.

And whoever the culprit is, she wants another victim.

* * *

DUN DUN DUN! Wow, that wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. BEHOLD, ROMAN SOLDIERS! THE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD!

Well, anyway, the reviewers can review now. Though I doubt anyone will.


	20. Chapter 20

iClue

Disclaimer: iCarly? Mine? Hah, you've got a good imagination, you should write fanfictions! And don't even get me started on Clue!

Author's Notes: DUN DUN DUN! We're getting close to the end... and the murderer shows her face! Did anyone expect it to be Mustard, cause of _**iBecome a Private Eye**_? To be truthful, this entire thing was planned out beforehand... with Clue cards. No, seriously, I took out Scar and Plum, shuffled the cards, and told my sister to pick one. Same for the weapon and room. Amazing, isn't it?

* * *

Chapter 20: iCall Your Bluff

"EVERYBODY, REPORT TO THE LOUNGE, NOW! NOW! NOW!" Scar's call echoes through the entire manor, making it impossible for the others to not have heard it. Green and Howard (Who are still in here) awaken and scream at us for waking them. The other two get in here pretty quickly, must have been scared out of their wits by Scar's military-esque voice.

Well, that, and one of them is a killer...

Don't think about that; Focus on the people. One of them must be nervous... though, they all look so... annoyed. They don't think we're capable of solving this, do they? Ah, well, there's a time for action, and there's a time for talk. This happens to be a time for talk.

"Okay, people, listen up!" I call, trying to get them to settle down. It's not working very well; they're too busy voicing there complaints, "Uh, hey listen! Guys, can you be quiet?" It's no use. You could have an airplane take off right outside the window and they wouldn't bat an eyelash. I doubt anything could get them to pay attention-

"SHUT UP!"

-And it appears I'm once again wrong. Scar's shrill, loud, angry, loud, passionate and LOUD voice cuts through their talking like a knife cutting through bread. All conversation stops as they give us their undivided attention. Just what I wanted. And now my tongue is too big for my mouth. Perfect.

"All yours, Freddo," Scar says endearingly, before sitting back down. I clear my throat, looking at anything but them. Hey, I've never noticed how interesting the ceiling is. I wonder if it's new.

"Ah, well, hello there, everyone," Scar gives me a warning nudge; We're here for a purpose, after all, "Um, well, you're probably wondering why you're here-"

"No, REALLY?" Carlotta asks sarcastically, "I figured we were down here for a reason, but it never popped into my head that we were supposed to find out about this reason!" I'd completely forgotten that she's Carly. Carly is sweet, but never afraid to use sarcasm and joke around. That's why Sam and I sometimes call her 'Miss Sassy-pants'. She hates the name, though we mean it jokingly. Hey, we need a reason to make fun of her! It just wouldn't be us if we didn't eventually victimize Carly, would it?

And of course, it's Scar who tells things like it is, "Yeah, you're here for a reason. Congratulations, you proved you have more of a brain then half the people in here. Your reward? Not having your mouth taped up. NOW SIT!" Carlotta whimpers, but obeys. Scar seems proud of herself, though. Is that a good thing?

Nonetheless, I continue onward, "We have good news, bad news, and terrible news. Which do you wanna hear first?"

Carlotta grins, raising her hand, "Oh! Good news, please," Huh, I can picture Carly doing the exact same thing. Scary.

"Alright, good news is... we're on the murderers track! We have two suspects left, though for reasons we don't have to explain to you, we're not telling," Everyone murmurs different things, from 'I think it's one of THEM!', to 'Pompous jerks, humph!', to 'It was the tuna fish, WASN'T IT?'. I guess it's easy to figure out who said what. But I won't go into detail on that.

"Bad news... tomato is a fruit," Scar announces. Huh, I wondered what the bad news was. Scar just said to include it. Everyone gasps, Green calling out that tomatoes are vegetables. I roll my eyes, thinking this is so typically Sam. Only Sam...

"Oh, and the terrible news? The murderer has a gun," I announce, wasting no time. Naturally, everyone (Minus myself and Scar) screams the moment they here that. Mass panic sets in. Carlotta begins crying after a moment. Scar, finally, whistles loudly, getting everyone's attention. The mania dies down... for now, anyway. Everyone follows her orders, which are in this order: Sit down, be quiet, put fists in mouths. While everyone attempts to accomplish this odd feat, Scar addresses me.

"Any hints?" I shrug, getting a closer look at our suspects. Suddenly...

"What's this?" I ask, taking a sample of... something dusty off of the face of Mrs. White. She gaps at me for a moment, then mumbles, barely audibly:

"It's dust; I was dusting," I narrow my eyebrows; The substance is too dark to be dust. In fact, it's too dark to be dirt! The substance is nearly black, and somewhat familiar. Taking a risk, I stick it in my mouth.

"Ugh, Freddork, that's disgusting!" I, for once, ignore my partner, instead choosing to spit into my drink; a cup of coffee. It's horrible! ...but it gives me my answer. I pause a moment, then call her bluff.

"It's not dust, is it?" She gaps at me, then recovers.

"Is your head glued on straight? Who are your parents to raise a _child_ to question the words of elders?" she empathizes child, as though to remind me how young I am, "And what-" I cut her off.

"Then lick it," She stares at me, stupefied, "Go ahead; Dust is harmless. Just wipe it off your cheek and put your fingers in your mouth, like I did," She blinks, then raises her hand to her cheek... and wipes the substance off.

She's about to put it in her mouth, when it suddenly stops. She growls at me, "I'm not putting this in my mouth!" I take a plastic bag out of my bag, full of gunpowder. Everyone sees it, and gasps. Well, minus Green, who gaps at me.

"First off, Green, sorry about stealing you're spare supply of gunpowder; this is an emergency," At the word gunpowder, everyone exchanges surprised glances. Green nods, signifying that it's okay for me to use.

I take a white glove, put it on, and dip it into the bag. Then, I take the other white glove,equip it on my other hand, and streak it across her cheek. I then pass then to Carlotta.

"An exact match!" And she's so honest, everyone trusts her opinion. We all turn to White, who backs towards the door slowly.

"Now..." She says, looking scared, "Let's not be hasty," And she turns around and bolts through the door, Scar and I hot on her heels. Looks like we've got ourselves a chase. And the murderer is almost caught.

* * *

CLIFFHANGER! All fear the mighty cliffhanger, which leaves you hanging on the edge of your seat, begging for more. Or maybe not. Maybe I'm horrible at writing cliffhangers... and stories in general for that matter. I try not to judge my own work, cause you usually give yourself a better grade than you deserve... or completely undermine yourself. But this is getting long, so I'll go now.

How many of you expected White? I remember a few people were suspicious of Green...

LET THE AWESOMENESS OF REVIEWS REVIVE THIS STORY, AND TURN IT INTO SOMETHING AMAZING!


	21. Chapter 21

iClue

Disclaimer: Can't talk right now. Too busy not owning iCarly or Clue, and wishing I did. Well, not really. Lots more responsibility than I'd want.

Author's Notes: Well, after the *gasp* cliffhanger of the last chapter, this is what happened. Probably not that epic. Okay, why do I waste time typing these if I've got nothing interesting to say? Ah, well, enjoy the show.

* * *

Chapter 21: iHave an Epic Chase Scene

"_An exact match!" And she's so honest, everyone trusts her opinion. We all turn to White, who backs towards the door slowly. _

"_Now..." She says, looking scared, "Let's not be hasty," And she turns around and bolts through the door, Scar and I hot on her heels. Looks like we've got ourselves a chase. And the murderer is almost caught._

We (By we I mean Scar and I) run out of the lounge, trying to find White. We look around, though find absolutely no trace of her. The halls are empty, and she must be moving around carefully; there are no sounds of footsteps echoing through the empty halls, like you'd normally hear.

"We need to split up!" Scar shouts, and I don't have time to argue or complain. We quickly agree that she searches the left side of the house, and I search the right. If either or both of us come up empty-handed, we head down the secret passage and wait in the cross-section for the other. If one of us encounters White, they run and scream for help, and the other races to their side to help with the final face-off. Or chase her if she runs. Whichever comes first.

And so we take off in different directions. Scar to the dining room, myself to the hall. Nothing there, I notice as soon as I open the door. Pretty much the same scenario for the Observatory and Living Room. When I get to the theater, however...

I open the door only a bit, and see someone moving in the darkness. It's no secret that Scar and I have been using the dark room as our headquarters, so it would only make sense that she come here to look for our stuff. Nobody knows, minus ourselves, just what exactly we've been up to in here. Once, Green walked in on us, and walked out with a limp. Enough said.

I'm careful not to attract attention as I push the door open, sneak in, and close it behind me. Not a sound is made, something to be proud of, I suppose. Wait, I was supposed to call Scar. Oh, well, I can handle this woman. I sneak up on her, something easily done in the dark, and jump on her back. A yelp echoes through the near empty theater as- wait...

"GREEN?" Sure enough, the one I'd pounced on was Green... how embarrassing, "WHAT are you doing here?"

"HIDING! Though apparently not well enough," Now I'm really glad I hadn't called Scar. She would've ripped Green's head off for going into our hiding place, then proceed to scream at me for calling her for GREEN. I hope she's having better luck than I am. I grumble, letting Green go, and warning him to hide in Mustard's room (partially to annoy Mustard), before heading off to find the real murderer.

I run into the spa, the last room on my checklist before going underground, and notice something out of place immediately. No, not the towels, not the hot tub (Why does a manor in the 20's have a hot tub?), not the massage tables... those I didn't even spare a moment looking at.

What caught my attention was the open trap door.

* * *

I lower myself into the trap door, praying Scar hadn't entered her's yet. White is in this tunnel somewhere, and I'm gonna find her. I drop to the ground (Roughly ten feet from the entrance to the tunnel), and wince slightly at the drop. My legs are in slight pain from the jump, but I ignore that and press onward, grabbing a flashlight someone had dropped there, presumably Spencer before he died (FINALLY! Something that makes sense!). Flickering it on, I march forward.

I tread softly, as to not allow Mrs. White to hear my footfall. The walls have always been made of dirt and poorly put up boards, but now, perhaps because there's a murderer in here, it's creepier than it had been when we first found it. At that moment I remember there's a way out from here. She could get away with this!

I pause when I think I hear something, and stop to listen. Frantic footsteps... and it's becoming fainter, so it has to be White. I head in that direction, still being careful not to attract attention, and head up the northwestern hallway, towards the kitchen. I make it just in time to see the edge of her dress disappear. She's taking her time... which means she doesn't know I've followed her. Gives me the advantage. I wait a moment, then peek out of the trap door to see her approach the cabinet. Making sure no one's watching (And again failing to see me), she opens it and pulls out...

_The gun._

There, in her hands, is the weapon she'd stolen from Green. That was stolen (And returned) by Scar first. I'm only really able to think one thought right about now, and it's 'Green needs to be more careful with his stuff- no wonder he got his firearms license taken away'. I watch, too shocked to produce coherent and/or useful thought, as she loads the gun. And then she sneers, talking to herself.

"One shot from behind... and little miss Marissy is going to get that wanna be actress for stealing MY spot in this show. MY SPOTLIGHT!" My brain goes dead. She's after Scar! The moment she shuts the door, I scramble out of the passageway, running to the door, all the while managing not to be heard, and run to the patio, where Scar must surely be.

And she's there, all right. Carefully looking over the plants on the left side of the room, she leaves herself perfectly vulnerable.

"Not here... hmm, Freddork's probably waiting for me. Better get going," She turns towards the door, and I finally spot White, on the edge of the patio, hiding behind some plants. How did Scar not notice her crossing to the other side of the patio? Doesn't matter, because I hear the dreaded sound of a gun being loaded. I don't think; That moment, my instincts take over.

"Frednerd? What are you doing- ahh!"

A loud shot echoes through the air immediately after I push us both to the ground. I can hear White curse, though it's not coherent. Both of us collide with the wood of the patio. Scar screams beside me, pulling me out of my instinctive state and into reality. I can see blood staining the wood.

I failed...

"FREDDIE!"

* * *

So... what happened? Even I got confused on that last part, and I'm the one WRITING this! Maybe you'll all be good little detectives and tell me what happened? Possibly in review form? Meanwhile, I'll write the next chapter. Also, this is by far the best cliffhanger I've ever written. YAY!

Also, I'm not going to state White's agenda. Remember that this is Freddie's dream, so not everything has to make sense. Feel free to come up with an agenda on your own. I'm sure your smart enough... I gave you twenty-one chapters, certainly you can figure something out!


	22. Chapter 22

iClue

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly or Clue. I wish I owned OpenOffice, so I could fire whoever made the stupid auto-fix feature! Every time...

Author's Notes: Okay, last chapter may have been my BEST cliffhanger ever. So, who thinks they know what happened? Well prepare to be wrong! ...or right, if you did guess correctly. Okay, lets get back to the blood, Freddie, Scar, and White.

* * *

Chapter 22: iWill Kill You!

"FREDDIE!"

I sit upward. Scar is sitting by my side, staring worriedly at... me? Why? "Scar.. what?..." As told by my oh so brilliant statement, I'm confused and can't produce coherent thought. Subconsciously, I rest my hand on my stomach and recoil when I feel something wet. Almost afraid to, I look at it.

Blood.

Realization and shock took hold. I'd been shot? No wonder Scar looks so worried, I'd been shot! And, if I remember correctly from health class, the blow had hit my stomach. Is is fatal? What happens if I die in my mind?

My musings are interrupted by a scream.

It's finally registered in Scar's mind (Do mental images have minds?) that I'm badly hurt, and she can't take it back. Crying her pretty blue eyes out, she hugs me closely, getting crimson blood on her scarlet dress.

I smile, "Scar..."

"NO! You weren't supposed to take the shot! You ruined EVERYTHING!" Scar stops crying, and we both stare at the distressed (And disturbed) woman. Her eyes are wide with shock and adrenaline, her dress is all wrinkled. The gun is pointed at us, but it's just to threaten us. Idiot only put one shot in there. No more killing for crazy today!

Scar growls, bring my attention to her. Her eyes, normally a beautiful light blue, are as dark as the sea. Fire dances across them, and rage is evident. Her face is surprisingly calm, though. Without saying a word, she stands, and smooths out her dress.

And walks over to the criminal.

I don't shout out for her (She's not stupid; She won't get herself killed... right?), so she doesn't turn back to look at me. Instead, she walks up to White, not saying or doing anything. White stares at her, unsure of what to do about the surprisingly calm girl several feet in front of her.

"What are you doing?"

Scar stares on, not acknowledging her at all. It's very worrisome, because when Sam's calm... well, have you ever seen her calm. Only a few times and then afterwords...

"I WILL KILL YOU!"

She explodes.

Screaming, she charged at the surprised maid. They made contact, with Scar grabbing the middle of her and knocking her to the ground. They both screamed, Scar with rage and White with fear, as the two battle for dominance on the floor of the patio.

This is the point where the others come in. I had completely forgotten about them until now; Well, you would too, if you had been shot. Carlotta somehow manages to solely drag Scar off of the maid, while the (less than) gentlemen tie her to a chair.

Scar comes back to me.

I can tell she's trying not to cry. Suppressed sniffles and red eyes are the main indicators. The poor girl sits next to me, putting a false smile on her face for my benefit. Doesn't she remember that this is my mind, and that I'm not really dying? Unless I am, which would be disastrous.

"Hey, Freddork. How're ya feeling?" I give my best attempt at a smile. Poor Scar, worried about her mental creator. Huh, funny to think of myself that way. A mental creator. Maybe I am mental. Ah, who cares? I just want to lay here and sleep...

"_Hello, Miss Puckett,"_

Huh? I look up at Scar, who's still crying. Within the distance, I can see a faint light... I think it's white, but I can't be sure.

"_Okay, so explain it to the dumb blonde."_

Explain WHAT? Scar hugs me close, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Does she think I'm gonna die? AM I gonna die? Well, who's to say, really? We all die sometime.

And then Scar whispers, "You love her."

"Love who, exactly?" I manage to whisper in a horse voice, though I already know. Sam. I've loved her this entire time. Weird, how she's telling me I love her. Well, in a way. I wouldn't think about it too much, it'll hurt your brain matter.

"_You lose, Puckett,"_

Sam...

Carlotta walks over to me, a big grin on her face. "Time to go home," the lady whispers in my ear, giving a happy smile. That was the whole purpose of this dream, wasn't it? To make me realize I'm in love with that blonde demon. Of course. Every hero comes to an important self-revelation while in a coma. Though I'm not really much of a hero, am I?

Scar gets up, and walks towards the group. White had mysteriously gotten free from her bonds, and is standing with them. As well as a certain billionaire sculptor... well, this was just a dream. And if my dream says Spencer comes back to life, who can really judge?

They wave goodbye as the white light shines brighter. And brighter. And brighter. Until it eventually consumed my entire vision. Afterwords, everything fades to darkness...

And cue the curtain call...

* * *

Was that expected? Are you thrilled? Did I do a terrible job of exposing my readers to action, drama, and mystery? Well, I'm sure at least one of you thought of White.

LAST CHAPTER UP NEXT!


	23. Chapter 23

iClue

Disclaimer: WARNING: OPPOSITE OF FIRE DOES NOT OWN iCARLY OR CLUE.

Author's Notes: To be truthful, I had all except this last chapter written before school ended. Yeah, I'm terrible. Well anyways, here is the final chapter of iClue. Does anyone think I should make a sequel to _**iBecome a Private Eye**_? Until I figure out what I wanna do next (Cause most sequels ruin the original, as I've noticed), I'll be working on a little pet project. And onto the chapter!

* * *

Chapter 23: iAwaken

Ah! Again with the annoying feeling of being pulled back into reality. This is nothing like on TV!

I will my eyes to stay open, because, despite being done with the coma, I'm insanely tired. I look around my dark hospital room for the first time. Plain walls, simple tile flooring, pictures, Howard strangling Sam... wait, what?

"S-Sam!" I'm hardly able to recognize my own voice; it's lower and more horse than it normally is. My vision is slightly blurred as well. That's bad, isn't it? But I have to regain my strength and speak again; for Sam's sake! "You can d-do this! Sam..." I feel my body go limp, but my eyes don't shut. Sam, inspired by my words, fights back mercilessly. One moment she's suspended up in the air; the next, she's kicking teacher butt!

Sam judo flips the teacher onto his back, but he grabs her wrists and pulls her down with him. I can only watch in silence as Sam struggles back, despite being pinned against the floor. The knife Howard's holding (How did I miss THAT?) is pressed against her neck. Forgetting my exhaustion, I bolt up and scream. Howard looks at me, smirks, and slits Sam's throat. Sam cries out as best she can, then falls back, limp. I scream.

"NNOO!"

* * *

At that point, my body jolts forward, hitting something. When I look around, something is different... the room is lit, there is no Howard anywhere in sight, and Sam is on the floor moaning in pain. Wait a second...

"SAM? Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" I ramble my apology as Sam picks herself up. Devoid of wearing any scarlet, I might add. She looks up to me and laughs, launching herself into my arms. I catch her, somehow, and wonder if maybe she hit her head a little too hard, "Did I hurt your head, Sam? Are you in your right mind?" She stops laughing and glares daggers at me. Right, she's sane.

"Shut up dork! Did you know you were out for four days?"

WHAT? FOUR DAYS? In that time, Melanie could've killed someone! Multiple someones! I begin voicing my concerns to Sam, who grows tired of my talking and places her finger on my mouth. She then smiles, and leans backwards... only for her head to hit the wall. I remember the way she looked on the floor, wreathing in pain, and immediate worry comes out as I check her over. She chuckles, pushing me off of her.

"Don't worry," She looks like she's keeping in laughter, "They're both in jail, rotting in their respective cells. I'm innocent, your awake, and that's all that matters," With a gentle smile, she embraces me. Relief floods over me. I'm alright. She's alright. Our enemies are behind bars, and everything's okay again. I hug her back.

Once we break off, she looks at me and asks, "So... did you really send me a dream message, or did my mind just make that up?" I blink. I thought that was all in my head. Maybe the mental world is more powerful than it seems.

"You got that? Wow, I didn't think it would work. Scar certainly didn't."

Sam raises her eyebrow, oblivious as to who Scar is. "And who's Scar? Is she the one who made you where that ugly purple suit?" I grin. She'll never know, until I tell her. And the fact that I know something she doesn't has got to be killing her inside.

My response? "I'll tell ya later." She rolls her eyes, and gets up to leave, presumably. A sort of dread fills me up as I watch her go. No. I'm not gonna watch her go. "Sam... wait." She looks back at me. Great. Now my words leave me. "I, uh, well-"

Why is this so hard?

"Well, what it is it, Frednub?" She snaps at me in impatience. Why is this so hard? How can I possibly explain this? Would she love me back? I stare her straight in the eye, then sit up. Which, as it turns out, is harder a task than it seems. Sam helps me. Once I'm up, I look straight into her eyes. Beautiful. Full of worry and concern. So, I follow my first instinct.

I kiss her. On the lips. Again.

Her lips still taste like ham. But there's something there that wasn't before. I can't describe it. You'd have to kiss that special someone to get it. Once we break apart, I flinch away from her, expecting her to hit me. Surprisingly, she doesn't. "Well? Your gonna tear my eyeballs out, right?" I ask her. She shakes her head no, smiling at me. I can see a new maturity in her eyes...

"Oh, good, you're up. I'll go get you a doctor, you wait right here," Stupid nurse.

I remember something at that moment. "Hey Sam?" She looks up at me. "I love you."

She smirks. "Love you too, dork."

* * *

"Three cheers for Freddie!"

I smile modestly as the people toast me. Really, I don't deserve it. I mean, I've been in a coma for the past... um, four days, wasn't it? Anyways, after everyone toasts, I subtly to Sam gesture towards the elevator. She gets the message and heads to it. Once inside, I press the button. The door closes. And I gently kiss my girl's lips yet again.

"So," I begin after pulling back, "How was playing detective?"

"Playing?" Sam scoffs, "Freddork, I put a dangerous criminal and his accomplice behind bars. I avenged your beating, solved a mystery, made friends out of enemies, and beat up biker dudes! I was** NOT **playing!" I nod, confirming what she said. It was all true, after all.

"I know. I still can't believe you did that... for **ME**!" She eyes me, then smirks.

"Oh, I didn't do it for you," She narrows her eyes in mock anger, "Nobody messes with Samantha J. Puckett's property and gets away with it!" I roll my eyes. So I was her property now, eh? Well, time to fight fire with ice!

"Whatever you say, Samantha _**Jocelyn **_Puckett."

As I expect, she gaps stupidly at me knowing her middle name. "How do you know my middle name?" She asks in her stupor. I lean forward, pressing my lips gently to hers, and then pull back, saying:

"My little secret." And I'm assaulted with a pillow. Whatever, I'll play along here. I won't go into the details of our pillow fight. And I let her win, mind you.

We laid on our backs, content, when Sam turns to me and asks, "Who is Scar, anyways? From the sound of things, she can't be a very good character."

Oh, the irony. "Alright Sam. I'll tell you about what happened in my coma. It went down like this..."

* * *

WAH! IT'S THE END! And I KNOW Sam's middle name is Joy, but I like Jocelyn. There are stupider mess-ups out there! ...somewhere. Just look, you'll find it.

So... review, and don't cry cause it's over. Smile cause it happened. Can't remember where I read that.


End file.
